Clash of Fates, a Thrawn duology
by Bob DeFrank
Summary: Weeks before the Battle of Endor, Grand Admiral Thrawn encounters the Yuuzhan Vong
1. Default Chapter Title

Clash of Fates, a Thrawn Dualogy : Part one  
Bob DeFrank  
DFRANC@Prodigy.Net  
Catagory: The Rebellion  
Keywords: Thrawn, Vergere, Vong, Anor  
Spoilers: Vision of the Future, Vector Prime, Dark Tide: Ruin, Rogue Planet  
Rating: PG-13, violence, nothing graphic, no sexual situations  
  
Summary: While the Battle of Endor draws near, another confrontation just as   
crucial to the future of the galaxy is taking place. Grand Admiral Thrawn and   
the Yuuzhan Vong have become aware of one another, and a war for control of the   
Unknown Regions has begun. Thrawn and the Executor wage this war in their own   
way, but it will a lone Jedi Knight, a psychotic TIE fighter pilot and an   
innocent native of a conquered planet who will decide the outcome.  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned   
by George Lucas, Timothy Zahn, Michael A, Stackpole, R.A. Salvatore and Greg   
Bear. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.  
  
Author's Note: Much of this story was written before Agents of Chaos: Hero's   
Trial was published, as a result I have had only a vague idea of Vergere's   
situation, appearance and personality. This means that I will have to alter the   
forthcoming chapters of Part Two in order to return Vergere to where she is in   
the beginning of Hero's Trial. I am confident that I can make it work, though,   
since I had a similar crisis when writing Part One: I was in the middle of   
writing Chapter Two when Rogue Planet was published, which gave me the idea of   
putting Vergere in this story in the first place. Enjoy the story, and may the   
Force be with you.  
  
Prologue  
  
  
The slaves were hard at work under the morning sunlight, tending the many fields   
of yorrik coral where the Yuuzhan Vongs' creatures grew to maturity. The sight   
pleased Sang Anor to no end. The Executor walked with long, easy strides along   
the uneven ground, surveying the development of the many and diverse life forms   
that grew around him, tailor-made to fit the needs of the Praetorite Vong. On   
this small, obscure planet deep in what the beings of this galaxy called the   
Unknown Regions a fleet was slowly being constructed, and when the waves of holy   
warriors arrived at the Outer Rim to bring the superior ways of the Yuuzhan Vong   
to the infidels they would find the human Empire in chaos and a strong foothold   
already established. The worlds of this galaxy would be like to ripe villips   
waiting to be plucked.  
  
Like most Yuuzhan Vong warriors, Sang Anor was clothed in a loincloth only. The   
Vong wore as little as possible when circumstances did not call for vonduun   
shell armor or an ooglith cloaker, the better to reveal his masterpiece of   
scars, tattoos and various other functional deformities that marked his exalted   
status as the highest ranking Yuuzhan Vong in this galaxy.  
  
That would change once the great jihad against the infidels began, when the Vong   
forces questing here from across the vast space between galaxies arrived. So   
they thought, at any rate. Sang Anor had his own plans, and they did not   
include being subordinate to Domain Shai. Taking control of this world was the   
first step in the Executer's plans: the armies of the Yuuzhan Vong would have a   
secure foothold on this galaxy in the power base that was being grown here,   
under Sang Anor's direction. He would be in a position to control the course of   
the war and when, inevitably, the Yuuzhan Vong were victorious he would rule   
this galaxy. In the name of the Overlord, of course.  
  
That would be awhile in coming, though: the many worldships of the Praetorite   
Vong were still a long way from these stars. It would be more than twenty years   
before the first worldships reached the Outer Rim, no matter how hard the dovin   
basals that were focused on these star clusters worked to propel the ships.   
Sang Anor meant to be alive and powerful when they arrived, though, ready to   
begin his true work.  
  
But in the meanwhile he had problems nearer at hand to deal with. One of his   
private pleasures, however, was stealing a few minutes to walk among the living   
tools and weapons of his people, watching them grow stronger. He was   
unaccompanied, armed only with a long-bladed coufee hanging at his side, and he   
was out of sight of the nearest Overseer, but Sang Anor wasn't worried as he   
passed a group of slaves searching for signs of infection or parasites in the   
yorrik coral. The slaves had all been implanted with Obeyers, of course, at the   
temples, joints and other power centers of the body and could no more raise a   
hand against a Yuuzhan Vong than they could grow wings and fly. Besides, he   
could easily hold his own against any five of this world's short, reptilian   
natives.  
  
Lean and broad-shouldered, Sang Anor towered head and shoulders over the tallest   
of them. Before the Executer had selected this planet as a seed-world the   
natives had been a primitive race, small tribes living in mud huts along the   
marshes. Now both they and their world had been put to use in forwarding the   
goals of the glorious Praetorite Vong. They should be grateful.  
  
Topping a ridge, he came in sight of two Overseers who nodded respectfully and   
continued their work. One reptile, an old one that could barely lift it's thick   
tail, had collapsed while carrying a gourd of nutrients to feed the coral. The   
Overseers kicked it a few times for spilling the feed and ordered it to rise.   
The Obeyers inside the slave forced it to try, but the native was unable to get   
to it's feet. It only lie there, breathing shallowly.  
  
One of the Overseers took a step toward the prone slave. It had fallen near a   
holding pit for infant amphistaffs. A younger reptile broke away from a group   
of a half-dozen and ran to the old one's side as fast as the growths the Obeyers   
caused in his knees would permit. It knelt beside the oldster and turned its   
slitted eyes to the Overseers, babbling in the garbled Basic that many of the   
slaves had learned from their new masters (they also knew better, by now, than   
to ever dare to speak in the tongue of the Yuuzhan Vong). Sang Anor   
recognized the words "wait" and "rest" in the sibilant pleadings.  
  
The Overseer didn't dignify the slave with a verbal response, merely tapped the   
head of the amphistaff that lay across his shoulders and coiled around his upper   
arms. The trained serpent uncoiled, straightened and stiffened. Quick as a   
snake himself, the Overseer lashed the slave, using the flat of the staff's tail   
rather than the razor-sharp sides--no sense in wasting labor. The slave   
scurried off and the Overseer put one bare foot on the worn-out slave and   
shoved.  
  
The reptile rolled into the holding-pit, and any sounds it might have made were   
swallowed up with the screeching cries of the infant amphistaffs. Mature,   
amphistaffs were intelligent and obedient, but the infants were savage,   
untrainable and always hungry. They would leave nothing of the slave and it was   
near their feeding time anyway. Sang Anor nodded in approval. Nothing went to   
waste here.  
  
  
The Executer heard the sound of bare feet on the beaten path between the coral   
fields and turned as his son appeared around a growing coralskipper. Nom Anor   
stopped at a respectful distance and dropped to his hands and knees, eyes   
downcast, awaiting acknowledgment.  
  
Nom Anor was a young Vong with little combat experience. He wore a long-sleeved   
shirt woven of arach-threads. The garment was calf-length and slit on either   
side to his waist, so as to conceal the disgusting smoothness of his body   
without obstructing movement. The young Vong had nearly his father's height and   
frame, but was still of the feenir level, the slang term translated as   
"larva": minimal scars and no tattoos.  
  
"Rise and speak." Sang Anor spoke coldly. Any familiarity between two Vong of   
such vastly different stations would only dishonor them both. As the son of the   
Executer, the only special treatment Nom Anor was entitled to was that everyone   
expected three times as much from him than from the other feenir. Everyone   
except Sang Anor himself, who expected five times as much from his son.  
  
He longed to see Nom Anor as a battle scarred warrior, one he could embrace as   
an equal. Of course, he let none of this show on his ruin of a face. It was   
unwise to grow too attached to one's offspring: the feenir state was the   
weeding-out phase, where the weak and stupid were culled. Whether Nom Anor   
prospered or not was entirely up to him and the gods.  
  
Nom Anor stood upright in single, fluid move, but he kept his head bowed to hide   
the shameful symmetry of his face. Sang Anor, who's facial bones had been   
broken and rebroken countless times, noted the perfectly disciplined stance with   
approval. The feenir couldn't keep the flash of excitement from his eyes.  
  
"Executor," he said respectfully, "Prefect Ke'Nass has returned with a prisoner   
from the Imperial fleet."  
  
Sang Anor's head snapped around, eyes blazing up. "Come!" Nom Anor following   
in his wake, they loped across a coral field, their tough-soled, clawed feet   
enabling them to find purchase on the rough surface. They soon arrived at the   
living shell-structures that served as residences for Overseers and slaves. A   
spaceport was not needed, as coralskippers required little in the way of   
maintenance. There was a flattened area used as a landing field, though. Two   
coralskippers were settled there now, being fed by attentive slaves, and between   
the two beautiful, living ships...  
  
Sang Anor's eyes narrowed at the telltale solar side panels and spherical   
cockpit of a TIE fighter.  
  
"Executor." The tall Vong at the edge of the field greeted Sang Anor. In full   
armor, an amphistaff coiled around his arm, Prefect Ke'Nass looked every inch   
the proud warrior. If his intelligence, or at least the good sense, matched his   
ambition he would be formidable indeed. The Prefect was cunning enough when it   
suited him and none could deny he had a fair amount of charisma. He was also   
Sang Anor's most despised rival for power.  
  
"Disgusting, isn't it?" Ke'Nass went on, indicating the fighter which Sang Anor   
saw at a glance was no ordinary TIE. "The prisoner called it a TIE Advanced.   
An improvement over the normal abominations. I didn't want the worldship   
defiled by it so I had the vessel set down here."  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" Sang Anor slowed to a walk, then stopped a few   
paces from Ke'Nass. He didn't raise his voice, but the menacing undertone got   
through the Prefect's dense skull. Ke'Nass' lips were twisted in a perpetual   
smirk, but the mocking expression was in earnest.  
  
"Information, Executor." The prisoner, a man in the uniform and masked helmet   
of a TIE pilot, was kneeling beside the Prefect, his hands bound with blorash   
jelly and an armored Vong warrior standing behind him. "Intelligence about the   
Imperial fleet operating in this sector. My scouting group detected this lone   
fighter and I saw an opportunity."  
  
An opportunity to make a grab for personal glory, and perhaps revealing our   
presence to that fleet. "You were instructed not to engage the infidels unless   
you were detected."  
  
"I prefer to strike at our enemies, not hide in the dirt like worms and hope the   
machine-men don't notice us."  
  
  
Sang Anor slowly flexed his hands, his hooked talons almost itching, and for a   
second he seriously considered cracking open the Prefect's armor, turning him   
inside out and feeding his guts to his own coralskipper. "And I prefer to have   
my orders obeyed. Tell me, what did you learn that was worth your   
disobedience?" Especially when the spies Sang Anor had dispatched were already   
at work gathering information about the ships that were operating in this   
supposedly unknown part of space. Ke'Nass' grand gesture was not only risky,   
but useless as well.  
  
The Prefect gestured briefly and the warrior behind the prisoner pulled off the   
captive's helmet. Nom Anor, standing a half dozen paces away from the high   
ranking Vong, drew a sharp breath as his eyes widened. Sang Anor, more   
practiced at hiding his feelings, confined his surprise to a low hiss through   
clenched teeth as he saw the pilot pale blue skin, black hair and the red eyes   
that burned defiantly at all around him.  
  
"Very melodramatic." Sang Anor said to cover his shock. "Is this a joke,   
Prefect?" A Chiss? In an Imperial uniform and flying an Imperial fighter?   
Impossible! Only humans were allowed in the Empire's military. "Or perhaps you   
came across some pirates using stolen equipment. There are no aliens in the   
Empire's fleet."  
  
"So we thought," Ke'Nass shrugged, the spikes that studded his armored shoulders   
seemed to bristle, "this pilot boasted otherwise when I spoke to him during our   
transport back to this world. It seems the Imperials operating here have made   
an alliance with the Chiss, which does not bode well for our work here remaining   
undiscovered." The smirk twisted further to show the Prefect's sharpened fangs.   
Sang Anor offered a thin smile in return. Ke'Nass would dearly love to see this   
project fail: building a power base in the Unknown Regions was all Sang Anor's   
idea, Sang Anor's "baby" as the infidel slang went. If he failed, then Ke'Nass   
was the Prefect most likely to become the next Executor.  
  
As for Sang Anor, a Yuuzhan Vong Executor cannot be demoted, he or she holds the   
position for life. The issue was the way that life ended, whether in old age,   
in battle, or at a summery execution, which would certainly be ordered as soon   
as he communicated his failure to the villip sympathetic to the one held by the   
Overlord.  
  
And Ke'Nass will be Executor, and if we are discovered, the Empire made ready   
for our assault in twenty years' time and we lose this galaxy, well, that is all   
secondary isn't it? he though with contempt. "Well it seems you've brought   
something interesting after all." He said pleasantly. Nothing his spies   
wouldn't have found out anyway. "I will take over the interrogation, unless you   
think you're more qualified for it as well?"  
  
"By all means, Executer. This warrior will brief you." He turned and sauntered   
away. The Vong behind the kneeling Chiss bowed.  
  
"I am Saven Marn, Executor. I was flying a coralskipper on the patrol when the   
Prefect detected this machine. In accordance with orders we disrupted the   
machine's communications and moved to capture, not kill. Because of this the   
machine was able to destroy two coralskippers before it was disabled."  
  
"Impressive." Sang Anor turned to the kneeling pilot. The Chiss wore a look of   
cold disdain, but the Executer could smell his fear. They had been speaking   
the Yuuzhan Vong language all this time, now he switched to Basic. "What is   
your name, Chiss, and why do you fly for the Emperor?"  
  
The glowing eyes narrowed and he spoke in a complex, musical language. Sang   
Anor was one of the few Yuuzhan Vong who could speak flawless Basic without the   
aid of a tizowyrm, but the Chiss language was beyond him. He picked out a name,   
"Mith'raw'nuruodo," because of the emphasis the pilot put on it, but that was   
all.  
  
He was impressed by the creature's defiance. Strong enemies offered the best   
challenges, and it was so much more satisfying when they broke. His long arm   
shot out, faster than the glowing eyes could follow, and gripped the pilot's   
shoulder like a vise. Nom Anor started, by touching the Chiss, the Executer had   
conferred a great honor on the infidel.  
  
The glow in the alien's eyes flickered uncertainly as he was lifted upwards. He   
maintained his dignity, but Sang Anor could feel him tremble as his booted feet   
left the ground and he held him up, one handed, without trouble or tiring.  
  
"Let's stop playing games." He brushed the pilot's face with his free hand, the   
hooked talons a hair from breaking the skin. "If you are an Imperial pilot, it   
follows that you speak Basic. So start speaking." He studied the Chiss with   
eyes like spears of blue ice. "I've always wondered about you Chiss. Tell me,   
do your eyes continue to glow after they've been dug out of their sockets?"  
  
That did it. The pilot began to talk, and Sang Anor soon learned more than he   
wanted to know.  
  
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

Chapter One  
  
Purity.  
  
Perfection.  
  
That was what flying was all about, not crushing the Empire's enemies, keeping   
order in the galaxy or any of the political rhetoric the propaganda artists at Imperial   
Center cooked up. It wasn't even about settling the Unknown Regions in the Emperor's name,  
the official purpose of Unity Fleet.  
  
Lt. Drash Tevock sent his TIE Dagger streaking after the enemy fighter, the   
black emptiness around the ship's protective shell was alive with blasterfire and   
speeding shapes as sleek fighters danced around massive capital ships that lumbered  
through space trying to bludgeon each other to death with turboblasters.  
  
The fighter Drash tailed was good, no question, but Drash was better. Drash was   
the best. The Dagger followed the enemy as it climbed, passing so close to the   
raiders' battlecruisers that both were at risk of being vaped in the exchange of fire   
between it and the Imperial Star Destroyer, Hurricane. The pilot was as dense as a  
Wookie's cranium if he thought that would unnerve Drash. The targeting computer locked  
on the enemy and a red square framed its image on the targeting display. Not that it  
mattered. Drash would have known if he'd had a clear shot regardless, he would have  
sensed it.  
  
His thumbs squeezed the firing buttons atop the steering rods and four blaster   
bolts lanced out and converged on the raider, knocking out the fighter's rear   
deflector shield. The pilot tried to roll away, but it was too late: another   
salvo followed the blazing trail of the first and took out one of the ion engines.  
The ship was sent spinning to impact and explode on its own side's battleship.  
  
Drash didn't linger, but flew in search of more targets. He was not   
disappointed.  
  
Drash Tevock was rarely happy, only when he was flying, then the petty concerns   
of life vanished and the universe became a wavering shadow. No memories, no past, no   
future, only the moment, the kill, the fight at breakneck speed. He stopped being a human   
and became a force. He became the sharp edge of the blade. That was why he loved his   
Dagger: there was nothing faster in the fleet. And if it lacked the protection of energy  
shields and the heavy firepower of missiles, that only brought him closer to the state of  
being he so loved.  
  
The TIE Dagger was the equal of the TIE Interceptor in most respects, but with   
superior visibility and targeting systems and a smaller profile which made the Dagger a   
harder target. It also meant a hundred of the fighters could be packed into a Star  
Destroyer's launching bay instead of the usual 75 standard fighters. The Imperial fighters  
were simply overwhelming the raiders, it was getting harder to find targets.  
  
  
Almost half the enemy fighters were vaped in the first few minutes of   
engagement, when the enemy fleet intent on ambushing a Miashku convoy was pulled out of   
hyperspace by the Interdictor Cruiser Barricade and found themselves surrounded by Star   
Destroyers. The ambushers had become the ambushed.  
  
A TIE pilot ejected as his Interceptor had exploded and an enemy was closing on   
the life pod. Drash vaped the raider before he even knew what was happening. Pathetic.   
You'd think pirates would be used to sneak attacks. He ignored the pod. Let someone else   
tow it to safety.  
  
"Grey Squadron, this is Grey One," Commander Lont's voice crackled over the   
comm, "one of the cruisers is running. Sector 6-2." Sure enough, one of the three   
enemy capital ships had slipped past the Destroyers and was making for the edge of the  
Interdiction field, where it could escape into hyperspace.  
  
Trying to leave the party early? Drash smiled. We can't have that. "This is   
Grey Seven, I copy Grey Leader." He moved to join his squadron mates.  
  
"Try and leave some for the rest of us, Seven." A refined voice over the comm.   
Grey Twelve, Lt. Rael, was a Chiss, and so he managed to make even a joke disdainful.   
Many humans in the fleet disliked the Chiss: bad enough working with aliens, but   
aliens who actually looked down on humans? Unthinkable!  
  
"If you spent less time talking, Twelve, it wouldn't be so hard finding   
targets." Another Grey, a human, spoke. The tone tried for lightheartedness, but had  
an edge to it.  
  
Drash for one didn't care about any of that. Rael could be a Mon Cal as far as   
he was concerned. All interest lay in the kill, the perfect kill. He could feel  
the panic, desperation and hope in the cruiser as it struggled to escape. Badly damaged,  
still running somehow, it reminded Drash of something he'd seen on his homeworld.  
  
A badly wounded cave bear, all shaggy for and muscle. A raptor sporting with   
it, keeping just out of reach of the crushing claws and slashing with beak and   
talons. Drash felt like that raptor, he and the fighter were not two separate things, but  
one deadly predator. He was strong, pure and complete, existing in the moment. The sharp  
edge of the knife.  
  
Seconds from escape, the crew struggled to aim turboblasters at the fighters   
closing on them. Powerful weapons, but slow, so slow. Too slow.  
  
"I'll take out the shield array." Rael said over the comm. He flew a TIE   
Advanced, equipped with shields, a hyperdrive and missiles.  
  
"I've got it, Grey Twelve." Drash sent over the comm. He increased power to   
his ion engines.  
  
  
"Grey Seven!" The Commander's voice held the whip of authority. "Fall back and   
let Twelve have it!"  
  
"You're coming in fuzzy, Grey Leader." Drash said absently, all attention was   
focused on the cruiser. He was closer to it than any other fighter by at least three   
klicks and his Dagger was faster than an Advanced. He didn't need shields, he was too  
fast. He didn't need missiles either: the enemy ship was so battered the shields were  
barely holding anyway, and his scanners had already pinpointed their weakest point.  
  
He fired as he passed over, blaster bolts penetrated the shield just over the   
array. The shields collapsed and the battlecruiser was now just a big target.  
  
Drash overshot the capital ship then swung around for another pass. The   
turboblaster batteries fired, of course, but he was too fast. He strafed the battleship  
with blasterfire, taking out the bridge as the Dagger flashed over like a bolt of  
lightning. His eyes burned bright under the pilot's mask, and his face twisted in a  
savage grin. For a brief instant in that pass, Drash was tempted to angle down and plow  
into the bridge. Stab the body of his fighter like the dagger it,   
and it's pilot, were.  
  
The desire was short lived, vanishing as soon as it flashed across his mind.   
This was good work he'd done, but it wasn't what he was searching for. It wasn't the   
perfect kill, the one that he would give his life for.  
  
The rest of Grey Squadron was only now converging on the battleship, but there   
was little left to do: the great beast's head had been cut off and now the vessel was   
drifting dead in space. It was in the past now, and the past meant nothing to Drash.  
He searched for his next kill.  
  
**********************************************************  
  
On the bridge of the Admonitor, flagship of Unity Fleet, the Miashku   
Ambassador's tentacles writhed in pleasure as it watched the pirate fleet  
that had preyed on its peoples' shipping lanes being taken apart by the  
Imperial forces. Captain Voss Parck watched the alien out of the corner of  
his eye and a small smile played across his face.  
  
Serving with the Grand Admiral in the Unknown Regions, Parck had encountered   
more alien life forms than in his entire career prior to being assigned to Unity   
Fleet. Also, he had learned a few things from the Admiral. Though he had no claim  
to that level of brilliance, what he knew of Miashku body language told him that  
the Ambassador was very impressed indeed. It was certain to recommend that its  
world petition admittance to the Empire.  
  
  
"I trust this display of Imperial precision has convinced you of the benefits of   
the Empire's protection." The Miashku turned toward the Chiss in the white Grand   
Admiral's uniform, but kept a few of its eyes on the battle. The gurgling reply  
issuing from several orifices was dutifully translated by the protocol droid at its  
side--a tripod with many jointed arms and legs. Parck had long since gotten used  
to the little oddities about the Unknown Regions, such as   
the fact that so few protocol droids were modeled after the human form.  
  
"The lord Ambassador is most pleased with your fleet's performance, Admiral   
Thrawn, especially at how you were able to predict the exact hyperspace vector the   
pirates would use."  
  
"The Ambassador is most courteous." Thrawn inclined his head slightly.  
  
"Admiral sir," one of the crewmen turned from the comm station, "incoming   
transmition from enemy vessels. They wish to surrender."  
  
"Excellent. Order our forces to cease fire and open a comm channel."  
  
"Open, sir."  
  
"Pirate fleet, this is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Unity Fleet. Your   
surrender is accepted. You will cease all hostilities and allow your vessels to be   
boarded. At which time you will turn over all weapons and equipment onboard.  
Afterwards you will be released."  
  
"This**** Commander Fran," a voice crackled over the comm, "****terms are   
accepted, we will **pare to be boarded."  
  
On hearing this, the Miashku spurted more words, which the droid translated.   
"The Ambassador approves of your decision, Admiral, but points out that the raiders   
have stolen much from its people. Perhaps the Admiral is too merciful?"  
  
Parck listened carefully. Thrawn had told him earlier that this next   
conversation would be crucial to winning the Ambassador over. Miashku  
were merchants to the core, thinking always in terms of profit and loss,  
so Thrawn has told him as he pointed out various holograms of Miashku artwork.  
Half the battle would be to show them it was more profitable to have Imperial  
protection than to bribe warlords and hire mercenaries. However, it was also  
necessary to show them they could live under the Empire's justice.  
  
"Certainly, if your people were Imperial citizens the pirates would be made to   
compensate you with interest." Thrawn said smoothly. "Since that is not the   
case, I do the next best thing." He swept his arm toward the remains of the  
pirates. "Those raiders are ruined and will be released to spread word of the   
Empire's power, and the penalties for attacking the Empire's allies, throughout  
Zoab sector."  
  
The tentacles writhed in a satisfied way. To the Miashku, it was better to   
humiliate and impoverish one's enemies than to kill them. "Your point is well taken."  
The droid said. "And now the Ambassador wishes to retire to its quarters."  
  
  
"Of course," he turned to another crewman, "Ensign, escort the Ambassador to its   
quarters." The Ambassador followed the crewman into the turbolift, the droid   
rolling behind it on wheeled feet. "Captain Parck, you have the bridge, I will be in my   
chambers. See to the prisoners and download the data from their ships' computers.  
I will expect a report of the battle as soon as possible."  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
*********************************************  
"Interesting." Thrawn scanned the datapad Parck handed him and turned his   
command chair to the monitors and consoles of his command station. Parck saw star   
charts of the various systems of the Zoab sector and tactical recordings of the latest  
battle.  
  
"Admiral?" He asked.  
  
"The battle went well, Captain. Complete victory, casualties almost   
nonexistent, but something about the engagement caught my attention."  
He touched a console and a recording appeared onscreen. "That cruiser  
very nearly escaped. Most likely it would have if not for Grey Squadron."  
His red eyes glowed softly as he watched the cruiser being disabled. "Very   
impressive flying, especially Grey Seven." He replayed that section of the   
recording again, the tiny Dagger harassing the battleship like a venomous  
gathi wasp, an insect who's sting was as deadly as a blaster bolt.  
  
"Something about the way this pilot flies interests me." Leaning over another   
console, he called up a complete history of the pilot, Lt. Drash Tevock. Parck saw  
the name under the picture that appeared with the text. A nondescript face except  
for dark, intense eyes. His complete history, psychological profile, battle data  
from his TIE fighter's computer, and his service record before and after his transfer  
to Unity Fleet, all at Thrawn's fingertips.  
  
"But I'm getting ahead of myself, Captain." The Grand Admiral turned his chair   
back to Parck. "Can you guess what our next move will be?" Parck stood up a little   
straighter. He'd had a look around the darkened command room on entering and noticed  
that many holograms of Miashku artwork had been replaced. He had seen several pieces  
from Orune Prime, Warlord Coerl's homeworld. Also, soft music of a strange melody was  
playing throughout the room. The strangest thing about that music was once you listened  
long enough you literally stopped being aware of it. It was from the Chiss homeworld,  
and the Grand Admiral claimed that it helped stimulate creative thought. He often played  
such music when formulating military campaigns.  
  
"I would say, sir, that you are planning some action against the Warlord Coerl."  
  
"Very good, Parck. As you know, Coerl commands the strongest forces by far of   
all the factions in this sector." One of the star charts had colored-in areas   
corresponding to the groups that controlled them. Coerl's territory took up over  
twenty percent of the sector.  
  
"It will take a major campaign, Admiral, but I'm certain we can pull it off."   
In Parck's opinion, the Unity Fleet under Thrawn was superior to any other division  
of the Imperial Armada, including lord Vader's much-vaunted Death Squadron.  
  
"Of course. The Admonitor will set course for the Miashku homeworld as soon   
as the data captured from the raiders is compiled. We will begin moving against Coerl   
as soon as we have finalized the Miashkus' admittance into the Empire. I expect their   
agreement to come quickly and wholeheartedly."  
  
"Are you certain they will be so quick to commit to the Empire? While winning   
over their Ambassador is a good start, the Miashku have been paying protection fees   
to Coerl for more than six years. They may be reluctant to make this kind of step."  
  
"They will, Captain," Thrawn said casually, "when we tell them that those   
pirates were in fact Coerl's forces."  
  
"What?" Parck blurted, forgetting himself.  
  
"You have learned to observe and deduce, Captain, but you must do so at all   
times, not merely when ordered to." Thrawn admonished. "All the evidence we need  
will be in the databanks of the captured ships. One must admit, Coerl is very clever  
indeed: he extorts protection fees from nearby systems and then stages the occasional  
'pirate raid' on his client's convoys. When he hears of especially valuable cargo,  
of course."  
  
"And such a convoy was due to be shipped today." Parck finished. "That was   
what this 'demonstration' of Imperial might was really all about. You wanted evidence of   
Coerl's deception."  
  
"Exactly." Thrawn leaned back. "When this is revealed to the Miashku   
government, half the High Councilors will be outraged."  
  
"Only half?" Parck raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Of course, the other half are a party to Coerl's scheme. How else would he   
know which convoys to strike and where to attack? Doubtless they were paid a handsome   
share of the stolen goods. And doubtless they will be quick to agree to any  
course of action that will keep this news from going public. The resulting  
investigation would leave them poor, powerless, disgraced and owing a great  
many debts to a great many of their people." A slow smile played across the   
Admiral's face. "When the Miashku join, all their clients will find themselves   
attached to the Empire." The Miashku traded with every civilized world in the  
sector. "And once we have destroyed the strongest warlord in the area and have  
the leading traders on our side, extending our control throughout Zoab sector  
should be no trouble at all."  
  
Parck could only stand amazed at the Grand Admiral. "A question, sir." He   
ventured. "Would the Emperor approve of this? All this political maneuvering  
and making alliances isn't exactly standard Imperial procedure."  
  
  
"Point taken, Captain." Thrawn stood and paced toward one of his holograms,   
Parck fell in step beside him. "But the Emperor has given me the authority to  
conduct this mission however I see fit." He turned his attention from a portrait  
on the wall to a towering statue of an armored alien. "To bring the Unknown   
Regions into the Empire by conquest would be long and costly in terms of men and  
resources. By using our military forces in specific   
cases to achieve maximum results we will instead convince these worlds to join the  
Empire willingly."  
  
He turned his attention to a human statue. There were humans native to the   
Unknown Regions, of course. There were humans almost everywhere in the galaxy, but  
they were by no means the majority they were in the Empire.  
  
"It is important that the peoples of the Unknown Regions see us as liberators   
rather than conquerors. This is wild space, Captain. Lawless. Many will welcome  
the stability the Empire offers. Many already have. Certainly it will take time  
and effort, but in the long run I believe my way will be more effective than, say,  
sending a Death Star to destroy planets until everyone submits. Which is most  
certainly what will happen if we fail here." He deigned to notice the shock that  
painted Parck's face. "Yes Captain, a Death Star. A second one is   
under construction as we speak. It should be nearly complete by now, in fact. I  
take it the thought of seeing the Emperor's superweapon in action does not fill  
you with joy?" He said wryly.  
  
Parck could barely speak, his throat was suddenly very dry. His entire body had   
gone numb. Thrawn, he knew from experience, could be incredibly ruthless, but   
compared to a Death Star...the very real possibility of entire planets reduced  
to space dust in the blink of an eye... "No sir," he whispered, "I think I much  
prefer your methods."  
  
**************************************************  
The rations were as tasty as always, with all the flavor of fresh plastifoam.   
In the Admonitor's galley, Drash did his best to cover the taste with some  
imitation Coerillian seasoning and was modestly successful. He was taking a bit  
of something that was supposedly nerf-meat when a shadow fell over him. He looked  
up into the glowing eyes of Lt. Rael.  
  
The Chiss face was utterly composed, as usual, but the red eyes pulsed with   
fury. "You took my kill." His voice had a slight edge as he struggled to  
keep it level.  
  
"I didn't see your name on it." Drash turned back to his unappetizing meal.  
  
"I had that cruiser and you took it. I want to know why."  
  
Because I wanted to. Drash thought, not really caring. The kill that had   
seemed so important a few hours ago was now all but forgotten. "I was closer."  
He said, draining that last of his beverage, "and faster." He was uninterested  
in discussing his motives with anyone. They wouldn't understand anyway.  
  
"It's because I'm an alien isn't it?" He said through clenched teeth. Around   
the galley, groups of pilots and fleet troopers at various tables looked towards  
them.  
  
  
The rest of the galley was, for the most part, divided into little groups of   
humans or Chiss. In most of the areas where off-duty Imperials socialized, the  
two races tended to gravitate to their own kind. There were a few exceptions:  
pilots in a squadron often sat together, and at one table a group of human and  
Chiss fleet troopers had a game of sabacc going, but in most cases the two species  
looked on their alliance as one of convenience only. Drash himself was an  
exception to all that: he sat alone.  
  
"You humans think you're the only ones with any ability." Rael snapped. "Even   
the word 'alien' is an insult, your Basic lumps all nonhumans together regardless of   
their superiority. I had that array, but you thought I'd botch it because I'm not  
human. I'm a better pilot than you anyway, I've vaped you a hundred times in the  
simulator."  
  
Drash didn't like to be reminded of the flight sims, he spent as little time as   
possible in the simulator, the minimum practice time required by regulations.  
He despised it. So much like flying, but it was all a lie. It lacked the feel  
of combat, intangible sensation that came when the void of space burned with  
blasterfire and all between it and you is a womb of durasteel.  
  
He stood up, tray in hand. All this talk of reasons and prejudices was tiring.   
It had nothing to do with flying and he was bored.  
  
A blue hand on his chest stopped him. "I'm not finished." Rael said coldly.  
  
"Why don't you mind your own business, alien?" A human fleet trooper, oversized   
black helmet set aside, was beside them both, glaring at the Chiss. Rael kept his   
glowing eyes on Drash, who met the red gaze easily. "You Chiss can't stand being  
upstaged, can you?"  
  
"This is a private conversation." Rael gritted. "Leave us alone."  
  
"Always giving orders. Thinking you're so much better than humans."  
  
Rael turned his head and snapped. "I've taken a lot from you humans-"  
  
"You've taken a lot alright." The trooper snarled. "The best assignments, the   
top ranks, the best fighters- that Advanced you fly-all because that alien Grand  
Admiral thinks his people are better than us!"  
  
"Because we are better." Another Chiss broke in, shoving the fleet trooper.   
"The Syndic knows it."  
  
Drash watched with amused contempt as almost a dozen humans and Chiss, the most   
hotheaded of the Admonitor's crew, traded hard glares as words, and it looked   
like more than that would be traded soon. Rael was looking around, confused at  
the small crowd that had so quickly surrounded them. The majority of the troops  
had remained in their seats, but were all watching the confrontation.  
  
  
Suddenly he became aware of something stirring inside him. All this anger, all   
this rage, begging to be channeled into the pure, free sense of combat. Only a  
pale shadow beside flying, but it would still help him feel truly alive. Out  
of the corner of his eye, he saw a Chiss Commander walking toward them. Any  
second now he would shout something to diffuse the situation.  
  
If, later on, he tried to explain why he swung his tray at Rael's face, he   
honestly wouldn't have been able to think of a reason. Not that he would try  
very hard: Drash was never one for self-examination. He just didn't know why.  
  
In any case, that blow turned the gathering into a melee that the other fleet   
troops and pilots had to help break up.  
  
**********************************************  
Thrawn steepled his fingers and studied the information regarding one Lt. Drash   
Tevock. He had found some surprising things there, more than he had anticipated.   
Tevock was born and had lived the first sixteen years of his life on a largely unsettled  
world in the Outer Rim. Until the Rebellion grew in strength, then along with most  
young men Tevock was conscripted into Imperial service seven years ago.  
  
The small agricultural community he'd been raised in called itself the   
Enlightened Society. It was controlled by Zesir Frae, a self-proclaimed spiritual  
leader. Reports were sketchy and Thrawn had to piece much of the story together.  
Nowhere, for instance, is the word 'cult' used to describe the community, but Thrawn  
had the rare ability to see what was under his nose.  
  
Frae had been discreet, and undoubtedly had paid regular bribes to the planetary   
governor not to look too closely into the Society's inner workings, corruption being a   
way of life in the Empire. Two years ago, however, when the community leader had been  
diagnosed with a rather malignant and incurable form of cancer, he apparently decided  
the rest of the community should 'molt their physical shells,' as he so eloquently put  
it in his private journals, and join him as he ascended to a higher consciousness, so  
he led them in a mass-suicide. The resulting investigation showed evidence that Frae  
had ordered severe and chronic physical and psychological abuse on members of the  
community, especially on the children, since its founding.  
  
Tevock, meanwhile, had been put into training. He'd been a good, if not   
outstanding, student. It was noteworthy how quickly his indoctrination took.  
The process of breaking down a civilian's old system of morals and ethics and  
replacing them with the Imperial philosophy usually took years. Thrawn was not  
surprised, he suspected that Tevock had no morality for them to start with.   
  
Tevock had shown an aptitude for flying and trained as a TIE pilot, and here was   
another paradox: Tevock was probably the best pilot in the fleet, in the entire  
Imperial armada, with more kill points than the rest of his squadron combined,  
and yet he was never noticed. He was never awarded a commendation or put in line  
for a promotion.  
  
  
So many instructors classified a pilot's abilities by concentrating on the   
flight simulators and largely ignoring the actual combat performance. While  
Tevock was outstanding in combat, in the simulator he was barely more than mediocre.  
Tevock was also a consummate loner: he had no friends and was disliked by his  
wingmates in whatever squadron he was transferred to.   
Very interesting.  
  
The doors to Thrawn's chamber slid aside and Parck walked in and stood at   
attention before the command chair. "Admiral," he said, "the prisoners are  
secure and the data from their ships is at your disposal. There is more than  
enough evidence onboard to link Coerl to this raid."  
  
"Very good." Thrawn nodded. "Have our forces return to the base at Ios V. The   
Admonitor will set course for the Miashku homeworld. We have new allies to   
welcome into the Empire."  
  
"Of course, Admiral. Also, the Nightbird has returned from it's scouting   
mission. The captain reports minimal enemy activity in the Maser and Lor systems,  
but one TIE Advanced was lost near the Sevac system."  
  
"Lost?" Thrawn frowned. "You mean destroyed?"  
  
"Unconfirmed, sir. The pilot, a Lt. Wras, had made a hyperspace minijump into   
Sevac using the Nightbird as base point. He had barely exited hyperspace when the   
signal disappeared, contact was unable to be reestablished. The Nightbird's  
captain considered investigating further but the possibility of ambush convinced  
him to withdraw."  
  
"Unfortunate, we have lost a superior pilot and a superior fighter." Only the   
best pilots were given Advanced fighters. "I will make a note to investigate  
this further. By all accounts, Sevac system has no tactical value and no resources,  
but if Coerl is doing something there then I want to know what."  
  
The Nightbird was a carrack class cruiser. Fast and heavily armed, they made   
excellent long-range scouts. Their biggest drawback was that they could only   
carry four TIE fighters, but Thrawn had solved that problem by providing an escort  
of TIE Advanced for each scout. Equipped with hyperdrives, the fighters could follow  
the cruiser anywhere and give more than adequate protection.  
  
Standard Imperial protocol was that the superior fighters were too expensive for   
mass-production, and so they were never widely used in the Empire. Thrawn, though,   
was not standard Imperial protocol and had 'appropriated' the complete design specifics   
of the fighter before leaving for the Unknown Regions. One of the high priorities of  
the first shipyard set up out here was the building of TIE Advanced fighters.  
  
"Is there anything further, Captain?"  
  
  
Parck looked uncomfortable. "A small matter, Admiral, nothing worth   
considering. A brawl among a few pilots and fleet troopers in one of the galleys,  
just a few blows quickly broken up."  
  
"I take it, Captain, that one side was composed of humans and the other of   
Chiss?" Parck's discomfort was confirmation enough. "Humanity and the Chiss  
are both proud peoples, and pride can breed arrogance, but our peoples are  
strong as well, Captain. They will adapt. They adapt already: they fight  
side by side and are forced to depend on one another. This will lead to trust  
and respect."  
  
"If you're so certain this alliance will work-"  
  
"Have faith in the humans, as I have in the Chiss. Our species are compatible.   
I am sure in it." He turned back to the screens and called up more star charts  
and trade reports for the Miashku. He noticed Lt. Tevock's report, still onscreen.  
  
"I've been doing some research into our TIE pilot, Grey Seven." He said as   
Parck was turning to leave. "I've found some interesting facts."  
  
"Sir?" He asked, confused at the new subject. By his tone, Thrawn could tell   
Parck had already forgotten about Lt. Tevock.  
  
"For one thing, he is apparently the best pilot in the fleet." He indicated the   
screen with Tevock's service record. Parck scanned it and his eyes widened.  
  
"Sir, is this accurate? This pilot rates a TIE Advanced easily! Has he been   
tested for a wing command?"  
  
Thrawn chuckled. "Oh no, Captain, giving this man any kind of authority or   
command responsibility would be a grave mistake!" The mirth vanished. "He  
can barely control himself. Our Lt. Tevock interests me because while he could  
be very useful to our cause, he could prove very dangerous as well."  
  
"Why is that, sir?"  
  
"Because," Thrawn said grimly, "this man is a psycopath."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's note: For all the nit-pickers out there (and I freely confess to being   
one of your number), I am perfectly aware that Captain Niriz, not Captain Parck,  
commands the Admonitor. Niriz appears in Part Two, Chapter Two, with an  
explanation.  



	3. Default Chapter Title

Chapter Two  
  
Sang Anor had always felt most comfortable in the   
Yuuzhan Vong worldship Long Reach of Death. He'd been   
born and raised here after all, during the long search for a new   
galaxy to call home. In these coral hallways and chambers he and   
other Vong children had spent many hours at play: fighting hand to   
hand, setting up ambushes for one another and figuring ways to   
anticipate or even reverse such ambushes. He had killed for the   
first time at that period of his life: the process of weeding out the   
weak and stupid started quickly.  
  
When he was older, all the feenir of his age-group were   
divided into armies and staged battles in a long series of war   
games designed to teach strategy and tactics. He had bonded to his   
wife (now dead these past three years) onboard this massive ship,   
and she had borne his son within it's walls.  
  
And it was on this ship, under the eyes of the yammosk that   
Sang Anor, then Prefect Sa'Anor, had torn the previous Executor   
apart for his failure in allowing the captured Jedi, Vergere, to   
escape three years ago. And for the tragedy that resulted from that   
escape. It was here that he took that Executor's place.  
  
Right now the Long Reach was hidden in plain sight,   
just one more titanic rock in Sevac system's asteroid belt. As all   
the major events of Sang Anor's life had occurred onboard, it was   
only right that here he would plan his response to the Imperial   
threat.  
  
"From what our new Chiss slave has told us this alien   
Grand Admiral does indeed have the support of the Chiss   
population, if not the actual leaders." He spoke to Nom Anor as he   
selected two tiny, clear gel spheres from a coral shelf. Inside each   
hollow ball was a fat-bodied, bright red insect that breathed   
through minute air holes in the gel surface.  
  
"Unfortunately, we would have known of this much sooner   
had we been able to plant agents on the Chiss planet." As a rule,   
non-Chiss are not welcome on the Chiss homeworld, and while   
blue ooglith masquers could easily be produced, the glowing eyes   
had, until recently, posed a problem. "At any rate the   
interrogation, along with the intelligence our 'friend' Coerl has   
obtained for us, shows the extend of Imperial penetration into the   
Unknown Regions."  
  
  
He paced across the chamber, a high-ceilinged room lit by   
the glowing bodies of thousands of Lumen bugs on the ceiling.   
"The Empire has established a strong presence in eight sectors,   
with systems providing resources and positions for tactical bases in   
exchange for protection and stability, and Imperial humans and   
Chiss providing troops. The human troops have even transferred   
their families to these bases, so the Imperials are here to stay. A   
grim business, but not insurmountable." A thin smile grew on his   
face as he turned to his son, standing at attention in the living   
chamber.  
  
"But you know all this, Nom Anor, and you were rated   
highest in your age-group in terms of tactical skill. So tell me,   
what solutions do you see? What is the weakness in our enemy?"  
  
  
Nom Anor drew himself up, but kept his eyes downcast.   
"Executor, as I see it the great weakness of our foes is also their   
great strength: Grand Admiral Thrawn himself."  
  
Sang Anor suppressed a smile, pleased his son had come   
to the same conclusion he himself had. "Explain."  
  
"They rely on him, Executor. They depend on his   
leadership. He is the heart of their fleet."  
  
Sang Anor lifted a gel ball to eye level, pretending to   
examine it closely. He cocked his head to one side. "And you   
suggest we tear out the heart and crush it?"  
  
"In a specific manner." He kept his eyes on the floor, but   
excitement animated his face. "Thrawn must die, but by human   
hands. Imperial humans and Chiss are infamous for not working   
with other races. There is stress and division in their ranks.   
Thrawn alone holds them together: their mutual respect for him is   
what makes their alliance work. If it is known that humans have   
slain him then the Empire loses their Chiss support."  
  
"Also," he continued, "many of the worlds see themselves   
allied with not with the Empire, but with Thrawn. He is the one   
they trust, and his death will show them the Empire is not as   
orderly and stable as they let on. Some planets will withdraw and   
the Imperial fleet will be too occupied with keeping what they   
have to turn their eyes this way. At the very worst it will slow   
them, throw them into confusion and buy us time." Abandoning   
their seed world remained an option, if necessary the Yuuzhan   
Vong could utterly erase their presence in this system, but if the   
Empire became dominant in the Unknown Regions then it would   
be impossible to undertake any large scale operation in this galaxy   
and go unnoticed.  
  
"The gods have given us a clear path." Sang Anor   
pronounced. "Grand Admiral Thrawn dies."  
  
*************************************  
The world Sang Anor had chosen as his breeding ground   
for Yuuzhan Vong creatures was unremarkable by galactic   
standards. Located in a system with no military or industrial value.   
The native, sentient species, who called themselves the Nesz,   
however had a number of odd traits that early survey teams never   
got around to cataloging. Partly because anthropology with no   
profit was not very often done in the Unknown Regions, partly   
because of the nightmares and odd occurances that prompted   
Outworlders to leave quickly.  
  
The Nesz were aware of one another, they felt another's   
pleasure or pain as clearly as their own. For that reason the Nesz   
were utterly free of conflict. Tribes worked together instead of   
competing, spears and bows were for hunting and fishing in the   
marshlands, not battle. The Nesz knew nothing of war.  
  
Until the Yuuzhan Vong came to their world.  
  
  
They were like nothing the Nesz had experienced before.   
They captured Nesz and changed them, making them dead to   
their free brothers and sisters. They changed the very lands the   
Nesz had know since the beginnings of their race: marshes and   
towering bora trees were replaced with vast coral fields and   
breeding grounds for monsters.  
  
Worst of all, the Eternals who had defended the Nesz from   
all Outworlders were powerless against these new invaders. It was   
not until a newcomer arrived that the Nesz once more found hope.  
  
*************************************  
Oin kept his head down and back bent so the Overseers   
Wouldn't notice he lacked the growths that had been forced on his   
brothers and sisters. It was easy, there were only a handful of   
Vong on the entire planet and they ignored the slaves unless one   
made a mistake.  
  
The young Nesz moved from one group of slaves to   
another, counting things being grown and how far they'd matured.   
He looked in on the rows of dovin basals, the amphistaff pits, the   
razorbug hives and the growing mass of a yorrick coral   
battlecruiser.  
  
It was strange and terrible being so close to members of his   
race without feeling them. Oin got no sense of the slaves   
working along side him, they were now things separate and apart   
from the Nesz. Only the sense of the Eternals watching over him   
gave Oin the courage to do this.  
  
He moved to the flat area the invaders used to land their   
flying things. There he saw dozens of coralskippers, and   
something else. It was made of metal, round with panels stuck on   
two opposite sides. Oin's slit-eyes widened slightly. The   
newcomer would want to know of this. He went to a bushel of   
rods with rows of sharp teeth at the ends and took one. They were   
used for scraping the coralskippers clean.  
  
Oin walked to the edge of the landing field where the metal   
thing lay, separate from the coralskippers. It was dented, the   
panels bent and the transparasteel of the cockpit shattered.  
  
"You!" A harsh voice rang out behind him and Oin   
dropped to his belly with knees and elbows underneath him and his   
thick tail curled against his right side. Groveling to the Overseer,   
he hoped to hide his lack of Obeyers.  
  
"My coralskipper filthy!" The Overseer snarled in Basic,   
the human tongue the Nesz had learned from the invaders. "Go   
clean!" He must have pointed to a specific ship, but Oin saw only   
the Vong's clawed feet and didn't dare lift his head. The Overseer   
must not have noticed, as he turned on his heel and stalked away.   
Oin wasted no time in getting out of there.  
  
*************************************  
He felt better as soon as the mud of the marshlands   
squished between his toes and he left the coral fields behind to   
enter lands that were as yet unchanged. This was home.  
  
  
He sensed the others, the few Nesz yet uncaught, and the   
presence of the Eternals was strong as well. For now. The   
changes made to the planet drained the Eternals of their power.   
They drew strength from the life of this world, and that life was   
being choked out and they couldn't touch the invaders or their   
creatures.  
  
Oin jumped over the waist-high root of a bora tree and felt   
his feet sink into something strange in the tall grass. He tried to   
move his feet, pull them out, but the substance held them. He   
gaped in horror as the blorash jelly spread upward, engulfing the   
rest of his body. A trap!  
  
Sticky tendrils of jelly reached up, seized his arms and held   
them against his sides, he tried to scream but the jelly soon   
covered everything but his eyes and nostrils. From a hollow in the   
bora tree, a small insect crawled free and examined Oin with its   
antenna. Transparent wings unfolded and the bug darted off. It   
would tell one of the Yuuzhan Vong a trap was sprung, and Oin   
would become in truth the slave he'd played at being.  
  
Heart pounding with terror, he struggled uselessly. Then,   
spying a pond, he rolled himself toward it. He didn't hesitate: he   
saw himself as escaping death, not going toward it. Drowning was   
infinitely better than being one of the walking dead in the fields.   
At least this way he would join the Eternals.  
  
He never made it. Whips of jelly reached from the cocoon   
encasing him, slapped against the tree and pulled Oin back. It held   
him upright against the trunk no matter how he struggled to break   
free. He stopped squirming when he sensed something moving in   
the brush. One of the invaders was here to take him! Fear chilled   
his heart, and vanished in a blaze of violet light.  
  
A cloaked figure, far too small and slight to be a Yuuzhan   
Vong, flowed out of the grass screen. The jelly reacted, tendrils   
whipped at the Jedi faster than the eye could follow, which the   
lightsaber easily sliced off. More jelly reached out to take the   
newcomer and the stuff parted from the main body attacked as   
well. The Jedi was fast, incredibly fast, and the lightsaber was a   
blurring shield.  
  
Oin renewed his struggles and the jelly couldn't hold him   
and fight at the same time. It tried to cover his nostrils and   
smother him, but Oin had managed to free a hand and cover his   
face. He pulled himself from the sticky embrace and the Jedi fled   
as soon as she saw he was free. She turned and ran, with Oin   
beside her. Her hood fell back, revealing a triangular face with   
whiskers, feathers and large eyes the color of the lightsaber.  
  
"You did well, Oin." She spoke in his own language.  
  
"With your help, aye, Vergere."  
  
*************************************  
  
Vergere peeled the screen of greenery away from her small   
Freighter's airlock and entered the old crate she affectionately   
called the Loon. She set the computer to check all systems,   
then went into the adjoining workroom and glanced at the small   
storage closet she used as a meditation chamber. There she often   
tried to find direction through the Force, or better yet to make   
contact with the spirit of her Master. So far she was unsuccessful,   
but she was having trouble meditating on this world: it was as if   
something was blocking her. Most likely the Vong operation had   
altered the Force on this planet somehow. Too bad, she could use   
a little guidance.  
  
Sithspawn, just having another Jedi to talk to would   
help. She sat at a workbench and began disassembling and   
cleaning her lightsaber. Along with the traditional weapon, she   
had a blaster, a hold-out blaster and two vibroblades concealed in   
her robe and khakis. Maintaining her lightsaber was second nature   
to Vergere, so she could afford to think about the intelligence Oin   
had gathered.  
  
Prefect Sa'Anor was keeping busy. She supposed he was   
Executor by now, though. She hoped the pilot of that TIE had died   
before falling into Vong hands: Sang Anor would make him feel   
pain like he never knew existed. Vergere knew Sang Anor all too   
well: a dangerous man, more so than any of his people she had   
met. Vergere got no sense of him in the Force, but the Jedi had   
other ways of judging a person's heart. There was a coldness   
behind that one's eyes that she never could get used to. She had   
never encountered the Emperor or his henchman, Darth Vader, but   
she guessed there was little difference between Palpatine and Sang   
Anor.  
  
There were other matters to concern the Jedi. From what   
Oin had said, there was a TIE fighter on this planet. That could   
only mean the Empire is getting close to his seed world. For over   
a year Vergere had heard the Empire had a fleet operating in the   
Unknown Regions and had been debating over what to do about it.   
On the one hand, the Empire was by definition the deadly enemy   
of her and her vanished Order, of the galaxy itself. On the other   
hand the Yuuzhan Vong were an equal threat.  
  
It had been a great temptation to simply tell the Imperials   
about the Vong and their plans, but there was little chance   
whoever commanded that Imperial fleet would listen to wild tales   
of a people from another galaxy who used organics instead of   
machines. Not when a Jedi was doing the telling. Her only chance   
had been to follow the path of the Vong worldship hoping to find   
some evidence of the threat they posed.  
  
An entire planet used to breed weapons of conquest fit that   
bill.  
  
Vergere reassembled her lightsaber and hooked it on her   
belt, then left the ship to go and speak with the Nesz elders. She   
would need food supplies for her trip, which they could easily   
provide. She sat sipping a very tasty brew made from water, herbs   
and ingredients she'd rather not know and considered her next   
move.  
  
Getting offworld wouldn't be difficult, as the Yuuzhan   
Vong would be looking outward for attackers, not inward. After   
getting away it would be a simple matter to eavesdrop on open   
comm channels to find out where the Imperial fleet is. Then she   
would bring the vaunted might of the Empire down on this world.   
A thorough planetary bombardment should deal with Sang Anor   
once and for all. And the best part was that only Yuuzhan Vong   
and Imperials would die.  
  
A smile tickled the corners of her mouth, and died when a   
small Nesz female approached her. Vlu, one of the elders,   
appeared beside the little one.  
  
"I am sorry for disturbing you," Vlu looked sheepish as he   
scratched the young Nesz's head, "but the little one has heard you   
will leave soon and wishes to thank you for all you have done for   
us."  
  
She set her cup down. "I've told you before Vlu, it's all part   
of a Jedi's responsibility."  
  
"Perhaps, but if not for you we would all have been slaves   
in the coral fields by now. The hope you have given us has helped   
many stay free." He tilted his head. "Will you return soon? With   
help for us?"  
  
"I will do what I can." Vergere said carefully, her mouth   
dry. The Imperials would sterilize this world utterly when they   
understood the threat. These hidden villages would be vaporized   
into so many drifting molecules. She looked into the innocent,   
trusting eyes of the Nesz and balanced their few hundred lives   
against the rest of the galaxy if Sang Anor were allowed to   
continue his plans unchecked.  
  
She felt a lightsaber was carving her own heart out.  
  
*************************************  
Deep in the marshlands, on a tiny Island dominated by a   
bora tree, Oin scuttled up its massive trunk with the agility of a   
lizard-monkey. He carried a large sack made of shed Nesz skin   
and was slowly filling it with clinger fungus he plucked from the   
damp hollows, quite delicious when cooked slowly with the right   
spices.  
  
He found a treasure in a nest of grubs burrowing under a   
piece of bark and shooed away a bird, who retreated to a high   
branch and watched with jealous eyes while the young Nesz ate.   
Oin wasn't afraid: there were no Vong traps this far from the coral   
fields and no native creature could harm an adult Nesz. It was an   
odd but familiar feeling in the air that made Oin stop picking at the   
grubs and look down.  
  
A shimmering mist appeared above the water shadowed by   
the bora's spreading branches. It coalesced into an ethereal figure   
that hovered over the surface. The strange being seemed to be   
here and yet somewhere else at the same time, one second Oin saw   
skin and scales similar to his own and seemingly solid, the next he   
saw bones, innards and flowing blood, all transparent. The   
creature turned what looked like its head to the right and was soon   
joined by another Eternal.  
  
"The Jedi will leave soon." The second one said to the   
first, not with words: Oin didn't hear it with his ears but inside his   
head. He sat quietly on the branch and stilled his own thoughts as   
best he could.  
  
  
"Yes, I know." The first answered. Its mouth, first on a   
Nesz-like face, then a reptilian skull, did not move. "I have made   
certain she knows only what she must of this world."  
  
"You have been blocking her." The second said. "Keeping   
her from seeing us."  
  
"It would do no one any good." Underneath the two   
Eternals, the water swirled.  
  
"Some disagree. They think we should reveal ourselves,   
that the Jedi could help us."  
  
"She is the enemy of our enemy, this does not make her our   
friend." There was no mistaking the authority in the first one's   
'voice.'  
  
"Jedi are bound to defend life." The second reminded.  
  
"All life, friend, the invaders threaten the whole of the   
galaxy. The Jedi would have our world destroyed to stop them, I   
see it in her thoughts. So let her worry about saving the galaxy, we   
must save ourselves and our young ones." Blobs of water rose up   
under them and combined into an ever-changing sculpture between   
them.  
  
"We cannot stop the invaders." There was despair in the   
second one's voice. "Many of us have died already. Few of our   
young ones remain free."  
  
"There is hope." The first Eternal reassured. "I have a   
plan, it calls for one of our young ones." It turned its shifting face   
up to the tree. "Come down Oin." It spoke into the Nesz's mind in   
a warm, amused voice. Oin's snout drooped a bit, he should have   
known better than to try and fool an Eternal.  
  
He quickly shimmied down the trunk and sat attentively on   
a root. The Eternals were not the fierce slave masters the Yuuzhan   
Vong were, demanding groveling obedience. The Nesz regarded   
the Eternals as wise and loving parents.  
  
"Young one," the first Eternal spoke gently, "you have   
spent much time with the Jedi here. Now there is something you   
must do for us, something that will mean salvation for all the Nesz   
yet free." In a gentle but commanding voice, the Eternal told Oin   
what to do.  
  
*************************************  
Nom Anor removed his clothing and allowed the ooglith   
masquer to flow over him, tiny tendrils hooked into his pores with   
exquisite pain as the second skin covered him. When the new   
'face' adjusted and he could see, speak and breathe normally, he   
turned to his father for examination.  
  
Sang Anor walked slowly around what was now, to all   
appearenced, a naked human male. "Very good." He nodded.  
  
Prefect Ke'Nass smirked. "You are proud your offspring   
will pass as an infidel?"  
  
  
"Send in the warriors." Sang Anor turned to the shelves.   
To rush to his son's defense as if he were an infant would only   
dishonor them both, and Nom Anor had too little status to take   
objection to the high-ranking Prefect. The best strategy was   
simply to ignore the jibe, but under the cloaker Nom Anor seethed   
with rage.  
  
Part of that was because he knew the contempt was in some   
ways justified. His father had put him on this important mission   
when he had so many seasoned warriors to choose from as a   
chance to prove himself. Nom Anor knew it, he knew everyone   
else knew it, and the only way to justify his presence would be to   
exceed everyone's expectation. Even his father's.  
  
Three warriors entered the chamber, their bodies covered   
with scars and tattoos. As one they knelt before the Executor and   
Sang Anor broke open two of the gel balls containing red dye bugs.   
He set each one on the ridge over one of the warrior's eyes. The   
kneeling Vong did not flinch as the dye bugs each sprouted a   
stinger and stabbed into the white of the man's eyes.  
  
They pumped red lumin dye into the eyes and removed   
their stingers. Quick as an amphistaff, Sang Anor plucked them   
off the Vong's face and deposited them in a bottle-shell. By the   
time he turned back the warrior's eyes glowed red. He smiled and   
handed him a blue ooglith masquer.  
  
He repeated the process and soon three naked Chiss and   
one human shared the chamber with the Executor and Prefect.  
  
"Very good." He nodded. "The lumin dye will fade away   
in a few hours so you will have to reapply, but you are not to try   
and pass as Chiss unless necessary." He spoke to the four   
assembled warriors. "Use the human-skin masquers. I give you   
these as a precaution: because the Grand Admiral is a Chiss, some   
doors may be closed to humans."  
  
"Although our Chiss slave has given us an idea of his   
culture it is by no means complete, and the tizowryms have some   
difficulty in coding their language. If you must use these disguises   
then avoid interacting with true Chiss and speak only Basic." He   
folded his hands behind him and continued.  
  
"My agent on the Miashku planet has confirmed Coerl's   
information, the Grand Admiral's flagship is on a course for that   
world. It will be our perfect opportunity."  
  
For almost two years the Warlord Coerl had been entirely   
under Sang Anor's control and many of his top advisors were   
Yuuzhan Vong agents. The warlord was very useful, both as a   
source of information and as a screen against intruders on the seed   
world. Selecting a system in space Coerl controlled was not a   
random choice at all.  
  
"Once you arrive at the traders' planet you will rendezvous   
with my agent, Hren Silra, and put yourselves under his command.   
Once the Chiss commander has been eliminated you will go to   
ground until the Imperials leave Miashku space, then return here.   
Understood?"  
  
  
"Yes, Executor." The senior warrior answered.  
  
"Very good. Remove your masquers and prepare for the   
rites." The disguises were stripped off and sent to a far corner.   
Sang Anor turned to the Prefect. "We are ready for him."  
  
A new Vong, gaunt and aged, appeared at the expanding   
iris-door. Horribly burned and scalded from bald head to bare,   
cracked feet, he turned a skull-like face toward them. His eyes   
were gone, his sockets black pits of nightmare, and the sightless   
gaze was enough to unnerve the strongest warrior.  
  
He was enveloped in a vrashi membrane, its sensitive skin   
and long, bristling spines gave him a sense of the world around   
him and the long, sensitive amphistaff he held guided his way.  
  
The four naked warriors dropped to their bellies, faces   
pressed to the floor. Ke'Nass knelt and Sang Anor gave a deep,   
respectful bow to the priest.  
  
"May the Cloaked Goddess hide you from the infidel." He   
spoke to the warriors in a deep, emotionless voice. "May the Slayer   
guide your hands in time of bloodshed." The Prefect was   
dismissed and an Embrace of Pain was unveiled from one of the   
walls. The warriors who would journey into the heart of the   
heathens' land would need to be cleansed before and after   
encountering the taint of machines.  
  
Sang Anor oversaw the rites himself, and although his   
expression remained stern his heart swelled with pride as Nom   
Anor took the agony as well as the other warriors.  
  



	4. Default Chapter Title

Chapter Three  
  
The Admonitor hung in orbited around the Miashku   
planet, directly over the Capitol Marketplace, it's sheer size and   
power dwarfed the freighters and yachts that frequented the trading   
post. The multitude of communications satellites were like mites   
flitting around a cougar, and the small strike cruisers of the world's   
defense force was not comparable at all.  
  
Exactly the impression Thrawn wished to make.  
  
While the High Council debated allegence to the Empire,   
Thrawn would make certain as many beings as possible saw the   
Empire's power, and realize it was to be their friend than enemy.   
That the commander of Unity Fleet was here, far from an Imperial   
base with only his flagship would show his confidence in his men   
and materials.  
  
This was reinforced as he sent wings of TIE fighters on   
practice maneuvers in space, which the local satellite-cameras   
could record and broadcast. Thrawn even put on a few air shows   
above the larger cities to show off the precision of formation and   
superior technology and discipline of the Empire.  
  
Until now the only military and police forces for the   
Miashku were the private armies of the High Councilors and other   
powerful citizens, composed of mercenaries, small groups of   
corrupt killers for hire.  
  
"We must show them the benefits of Imperial rule, such as   
civilization." The bridge was its usual buzz of activity whenever   
the Grand Admiral was present, with everyone at their best. What   
pleased Thrawn was the security cams and performance reports   
marked the crew as nearly this efficient when he was not in sight.  
  
It could also have something to do with the two scarlet   
figures who had accompanied him to the bridge and stood on   
either side of the turbolift doors. Even Thrawn had to concede the   
Royal Guardsmen were impressive in their silent menace.   
Perfectly silent, perfectly still, they were ever watchful and   
capable of exploding into action in an eyeblink.  
  
  
With their lethal force pikes, any of the hundred weapons   
under the red cloaks or just bare hands and feet they could deal out   
death to the entire bridge crew. The Emperor had sent them as a   
symbol of his presence and the authority vested in Thrawn. They   
were also here to assassinate him if he showed any signs of trying   
to build an Empire of his own here. No doubt they sent private   
transmitions daily to Imperial Center and could easily receive   
private instructions from the Emperor, by conventional means or   
through a special link Palpatine seemed to have with all his elite   
guard.  
  
Parck licked his lips, his sole nervous gesture. "I still don't   
like this, sir. The planet is a nest of vipers and we're a tempting   
target up here, a chance to cut the head off Unity Fleet."  
  
  
Thrawn smiled slowly. "A concentrated attack on the   
Admonitor would require a good many ships and personal.   
Coerl is the only power within reach strong enough to make that   
kind of strike, and my intelligence sources report no movements in   
this direction, nor are any of the other minor warlords and pirate   
gangs concentrating military material for a large-scale attack. If   
worse comes to worse we have two Star Destroyers and the   
Interdictor Cruiser Black Hole ready to jump in-system at a   
moment's notice."  
  
Put that way, Parck had to agree, but he still disliked losing   
the initiative. "To change the subject, sir, the Miashkus' awe of us   
seems to have lost its edge. Their satellites are bombarding the   
ship with advertisement for investment opportunities, goods and   
services, and the crewers allowed shore leave on the surface have   
been propositioned with everything imaginable. The crew would   
be bankrupt right now if Imperial credits were the standard   
currency out here."  
  
"They will be soon." Thrawn said. "I've just received word   
from the High Council. In one hour they will announce their   
membership in the Empire."  
  
Parck exhaled slowly, after days of solid negotiating the   
major trade center of Zoab sector was theirs. This would tie half   
the sector to the Empire, the other half coming with Coerl's defeat.   
"Shall I have the conference room prepared for the formal   
signing?"  
  
"No, Captain, the High Council insists, and I agree, that the   
signing should take place planetside in a public ceremony   
broadcast into every household."  
  
Parck gaped. "Sir I advise against this." He managed to get   
out at last. "There are many who would like the alliance, not to   
mention the Imperial presence in the Unknown Regions, stopped.   
A military strike against the Admonitor might be out of the   
question, but an attack on you personally is a simpler thing   
entirely, especially in an open port where anyone could plant   
agents with ease!"  
  
Thrawn's eyes tracked the freighters that trafficked to and   
from the surface. "We must show we have nothing to fear to win   
their confidence. In any case, I've considered all this." He turned   
on his heel and gestured Parck to follow him as he paced to the far   
end of the bridge.  
  
"An Imperial survey team will help in preparing the   
ceremony sight and check for explosives, gas canisters and other   
surprises." He spoke quietly. "During the event itself I will be   
wearing body armor under my uniform that will protect against   
anything less than a high-intensity blaster bolt. In addition, I plan   
to stage a full military parade and air show. It will impress the   
people, and incidentally it will put four companies of   
stormtroopers around me and eight wings of TIEs overhead." He   
stopped near the Royal Guardsmen.  
  
"And finally, I will have these two at my side. The   
Emperor's watch-nekks can finally start earning their keep." He   
said the last lightly, neither Guardsmen so much as twitched, as   
Thrawn expected. The last words were calculated to sting at their   
pride and make them more vigilant.  
  
  
Parck swallowed. It seemed everything had been taken   
into account, but he still didn't like it.  
  
  
******************************************  
Vergere knew she was having a nightmare, but was   
helpless to alter it or wake up. In the dream, a Star Destroyer   
rained death on the world of the Nesz. Coral liquefied and bora   
trees burned under the onslaught.  
  
Then she saw Sang Anor walking among the fires, but now   
he was a giant miles tall. Striding toward him was another giant, a   
Chiss in the white uniform of a Grand Admiral. Sang Anor was as   
glorious and terrible as a barbarian god, his deformed face a mask   
of pure hatred. The Chiss admiral's eyes burned with the fires of   
all the galaxy's hells. They met and grappled and fought in the   
shower of turboblaster bolts.  
  
Unnoticed by anyone but Vergere were the Nesz being   
crushed under their feet.  
  
Then the scene changed and the planet was a burned out   
husk abandoned by Imperials and Vong alike. One lone figure   
remained on the blasted landscape. It turned and she saw Oin's   
face. The young Nesz's eyes were so weary, filled with sorrow and   
a burden too great for Vergere to comprehend.  
  
My fault, she thought, my purpose is to defend and I   
brought death instead.  
  
She awoke then, minutes before the alarm would've   
sounded. Shivering, she left the small sleeping berth, used the   
'fresher and went to the helm. According to the navicomputer the   
ship was almost ready to come out of hyperspace. Her hands   
trembled as she adjusted the controls. Vergere was too   
experienced a Jedi to tell herself she'd simply had a bad dream. It   
was a true vision of the future. She didn't know what to make of   
the Chiss Admiral, aliens weren't allowed to serve in the Imperial   
military, but the rest...  
  
Vong works and Nesz alike destroyed, that was   
straightforward enough. She had once spoken about glimpses of   
the future with Master Yoda, the acknowledged authority in that   
field. He claimed the future was always in motion, that sometimes   
beings could alter its results by their actions, but did she dare   
attempt to change what she'd seen if the sacrifice of a few   
innocents could end the Yuuzhan Vong threat?  
  
The ship reentered realspace in the Miash system. She   
powered the ion engines and cruised on a course for the central   
planet. Numerous other ships were heading to and away from the   
world, and Vergere fell in with a small convoy of bulk freighters.  
  
Rumors on the open comm channels was that the Miashku   
were seriously considering alliegence to the Empire, and that the   
Fleet commander himself was there with his flagship.  
  
Rumors, it seemed, were true.  
  
  
A grey-white Star Destroyer hung in orbit, terrible in its   
size and majesty. Overwhelming, to one who didn't know the true   
power of the Force, compared to which that war machine was just   
an oversized toy. Her eyes narrowed and mouth thinned.  
  
Ground control directed her to a small spaceport in the   
Outer Ring of the Capital Marketplace. She settled into the   
landing cradle and the comm flashed with advertisements for   
cleaning services, permawax, refueling and upgrades.  
  
Vergere went to her workroom and got a few gems and   
credit chips to use for money. They should convert well despite   
there being no standard currency in this part of the galaxy. After a   
second?s consideration she decided on packing herself something   
to eat rather than depleting what money she had on sampling the   
local foodstuff.  
  
She took a step toward the kitchen, and stopped. She   
sensed a presence, someone moving around in the room behind the   
door!  
  
Vergere sidestepped and unhooked her lightsaber. Taking   
a deep breathe, she hit the button to make the door slide open and   
bounded into the room before the door was even a quarter open.   
Her lightsaber blazed to life and she spun it in her hands. She   
landed with the burning point at the throat of the intruder...  
  
Oin!  
  
The Nesz, eyes wide, stood backed against a cooler unit   
with a half eaten meat roll in his clawed hand. He swallowed and   
smiled sheepishly.  
  
"Want some?"  
  
*************************************  
Lt. Stev Rollis and his four companions had found more   
than enough to make their shore leave on the Miashku planet   
interesting. Everything, it seemed, was legal here. The only   
restrictions came from how much one could afford. Of course, the   
Empire would clean this place up once they took control, and Stev   
had yet to experience some of the more wild passtimes: all   
Imperials on shore leave were under orders to keep their conduct   
exemplary.  
  
Besides, Imperial credits just didn't transfer well into local   
currency, as the money of the Empire wasn't widely used out here.   
There was no standard currency in the Unknown Regions,   
ironically the most valued currency was Chiss money, giving the   
alien Imperials a wider range of choices.  
  
One of the reasons why Stev despised the blue would-be   
humans.  
  
  
Many of the humans in Unity Fleet had developed a healthy   
respect for, even friendships with, the Chiss crewers. Not Stev.   
Maybe it was their attitude that rubbed him the wrong way: they   
were so smug, so secure in their greater knowledge of this part of   
space. They even acted as if they were superior to humans! It   
could also be that they often proved correct in their belief. Perhaps   
it was the simple fact that he didn't like aliens.  
  
He couldn't fault the Grand Admiral, the man had time and   
again proved himself to all his subordinates down to the lowest   
ensign. Stev was completely loyal to him. Well, there were   
exceptions to every rule, and while he might tolerate one alien in a   
command position, thousands of Chiss were downright stifling!  
  
"When I signed on to serve the Empire, I thought I'd at least   
be in the Empire, not the backwater of the galaxy working to   
bring civilization out here."  
  
"You have to wonder what the Emperor sees in this place."  
Another trooper said in Basic, or as it was known out here, the   
human language. Another drawback to living out here being the   
lack of a standard language for all the diverse peoples. That   
language being, of course, the human tongue.  
  
"Perhaps his Majesty didn't know what else to do with his   
pet Chiss." Another trooper sneered.  
  
"You may not be happy out here," a strange voice called,   
"but I am glad to have you here." The five Imperials turned and   
saw a tall human leaning against a wall.  
  
"And who're you?" Stev asked.  
  
"My name is Hren Silra, but who I am is less important that   
what I am. Human, brother, like you." He pushed himself away   
from the wall and sauntered towards them. "There are humans out   
here who have heard rumors of your Empire and its views. Who   
would welcome the new lifestyle you would bring."  
  
Hren's eyes narrowed. "But we did not expect you to be   
fighting side by side with aliens, or a Chiss," he spoke the word   
like a curse, "leading you. Maybe rumors of the Emperor's ideals   
are only that: rumors."  
  
"Unity Fleet is not the standard of the Empire, not by any   
means." Stev drew himself up and spoke coldly. "This is a   
temporary alliance."  
  
Hren Silra smiled knowingly. "You are thinking, perhaps,   
that you will use the Chiss for their ability and connections out   
here, then abandon them when you have established control. But   
the Chiss are clever. Be careful it is not you who are left by the   
wayside." Stev felt a chill, this was frighteningly close to his own   
half-realized fears.  
  
Hren's smile warmed. "But enough of this. It is a time to   
celebrate, is it not? Today the Emperor takes another step toward   
extending his control throughout the galaxy." True, the formal   
signing was scheduled to take place this evening. "And friend, I   
know just the way fine humans like yourselves can celebrate in   
style."  
  
  
"That so?" An Imperial crossed his arms. Stev, like the   
rest, could feel the sales pitch coming now. The planet's capital wasn't   
called a Marketplace for nothing.  
  
"A fine establishment, brothers, where equally fine   
beauties, all of them human, are willing and eager to comfort   
weary soldiers in every way they could desire."  
  
"What if we're not that weary?" A trooper asked with a   
smirk.  
  
"Then be assured you will be." Hren smiled. Stev and the   
others couldn't help but grin in return.  
  
"These girls, they'd better not have any of the stuff that   
floats around ports like these." Stev tapped his sidearm warningly.  
  
"Strong, healthy specimens," Hren assured them, "the very   
flower of humanity. And I am more than willing to accept   
Imperial credits. They will soon be the standard currency after   
all."  
  
"All right then." Stev chuckled. "We'll give your place a   
look over."  
  
Their guide led the Imperials through a few dark alleyways   
and old, unrepaired roads damaged by wheels, treads and age.   
This was the Outer Ring of the capital, where the poorer denizens   
dwelt far below the towering pillars of the Inner Ring. It was also   
unpoliced and home to the more unofficial and popular of goods   
and entertainments.  
  
Hren walked past the spaceports situated at the edge of the   
Outer Ring. Stev and the others followed, chuckling and joking to   
one another as they swaggered. They were Imperial troops in a   
city they controlled, a Star Destroyer hung over the planet like a   
vengeful god's dagger. What did they have to fear?  
  
They passed a couple of Chiss troopers, which they of   
course ignored (most of the smug aliens frequented the more   
classy and expensive places in the Inner Ring), saw a few ranats   
gnawing on waste canisters, strange how the vicious rodents   
managed to spread to every planet in the galaxy, and were offered   
the wares of a dozen venders, but other than that they met no one.  
  
Hren Silra stopped a nondescript building at the edge of the   
Ring, near the landing pads for supply transports from other cities.  
  
"This had better be worth the walk." Stev said coldly.  
  
"You will find this a unique experience." Hren keyed the   
side panel and the door slid open. He walked through, followed by   
the Imperials.  
  
  
Stev didn't expect what he found behind the entrance: the   
building was a single room, windowless. Only a handful of the   
glowpanels on the high ceiling still functioned, providing a few   
patches of weak light that contrasted starkly with the inky   
blackness. Hren had entered and continued walking towards the   
center of the room, the light revealing him for seconds only before   
the night-black nothingness swallowed him.  
  
  
"What is this?" Stev demanded, but Hren didn't answer,   
only continued walking across the floor in that same pace.   
Because he kept walking, Stev and the others hurried after him. "I   
said 'What is this?'" Stev roared, but the stranger had stopped and   
turned on his heel, spotlit by a flickering glowpanel, and Stev was   
forced to stop short of bumping into him. "I'm not in the mood for   
games." He said in a dangerous voice.  
  
Hren Silra cocked his head to one side, a half-smile on his   
face. "The atmosphere isn't to your liking, brother?" He spoke   
pleasantly, but the last word had a harsh, sarcastic edge. "It suits   
my purposes just fine. Behind them, the door slid shut, locking out   
the daylight. The unmistakable sound of a locking mechanism   
came from that direction. As one, the Imperials felt a chill on their   
scalps and ice in their stomachs.  
  
They weren't alone.  
  
Stev looked around and noticed the floor they'd walked   
across. Plain grey permacrete, dusty, with small, circular drains   
set at regular intervals on the surface. And they noticed the smell,   
old and not completely covered up. The smell of blood. This was   
no brothel, it was an abandoned abattoir.  
  
Stev drew his blaster. The others, sensing ambush, began   
to do the same. "This is a slaughterhouse." He bit out and pointed   
the weapon at Hren's chest. The space around them was utterly   
silent, whoever Hren's compatriot was, he obviously hadn't moved.   
"Open that door and tell us what the deal is if you don't want to   
know what a blaster bolt through the heart feels like."  
  
"It could not hurt worse than having to call you 'brother.'"   
The smile dissolved, and what replaced it was the coldest   
expression Stev had ever seen. "And I said, the atmosphere suits   
my purposes." He looked over Stev's shoulder into the darkness.   
"Remember, I want no blood on the uniforms." And there was   
such a whip-crack of authority in his voice than Stev jumped.  
  
And then all hell itself burst loose. It all happened so fast,   
faster than the eye could follow, it took Stev seconds to even   
compile what he was seeing.  
  
Long, lean shapes tore out of the darkness, launched   
themselves at the Imperials. Stev saw a blur of half-naked   
humanoids, their flesh a mess of old scars and tattoos. Blasters   
went off, jerked by startled hands rather than deliberately fired.   
Stev fired his own blaster and Hren Silra, but the other man was   
making his own move by now, and he was much, much faster.  
  
His body twisted to one side so the energy bolt burned past   
his chest. His long arm shot out like a snake, his large hand seized   
Stev's wrist, gave a small, almost uncaring twist, and snapped the   
wrist-bones. Pain raced up Stev's arm, to the tips of his fingers to   
the top of his head. His hand opened, the blaster fell to the floor,   
and Hren pulled him forward and hurled him into the air.  
  
  
Instinct made him tuck and roll as he struck the hard   
permacrete. He lifted his head, focused dazed eyes, and saw a   
nightmare scene. All his companions were down and disarmed,   
none having the chance to get off a second shot before the   
monsters batted their weapons aside. One of the savages drove a   
knee into a man's chest, cracking ribs and rupturing internal   
organs. Another simply took both sides of a trooper's head and   
snapped his neck. Hren Silra watched, nodded slightly, then   
turned to Stev.  
  
He struggled to his feet, adrenaline gave him strength to   
ignore his wrist, and rushed the other man. Stev was in a fighting crouch,   
the undamaged left hand raised in a fist, he clung to one thought:   
he was a fleet trooper, a soldier for the Empire, of course he was   
superior to anything these savages had.  
  
Hren Silra tracked him with cold eyes, and when the   
Imperial was within reach his arm shot out again fast, so fast! He   
reached through Stev's guard before he could react and caught his   
throat in a vise-grip, stopping him cold. The arm lifted, forcing   
Stev to straighten or have his feet leave the floor altogether.   
Hren's smile had returned, this time with a sad, almost wistful   
expression.  
  
"See how helpless your dependence of machines had made   
you? How weak? But there is some courage in this frail form,   
isn't there? You will make a decent sacrifice to Yun Yammka."   
The fingers tightened and Stev's eyes bulged as is air supply was   
cut off. He pried at the fingers on his neck, he punched and kicked   
at the man holding him. Stev was a big man, well versed in hand-  
to-hand combat, but this was like hitting durasteel!  
  
Hren Silra lifted his free hand and long, wicked claws   
sprouted from under the fingernails. He reached up and touched   
something on his face, and his face...sagged. It was as though the   
skin was loosening, peeling away from the skull beneath, and that   
was exactly the case.  
  
If it were possible for Stev's eyes to bulge any farther they   
would have. There was another face under that second skin. A   
face straight from the hell his mother had used to scare him with as   
a child. A place that, until this moment, Stev Rollis had convinced   
himself he no longer believed in.  
  
*******************************  
With his face free of the masquer, Hren Silra opened his   
hand and let the corpse fall to the floor, then turned to survey the   
other Yuuzhan Vongs' handiwork.  
  
  
"As you commanded," the senior warrior addressed him,   
"not so much as a drop of blood stains their clothes." True enough:   
there were bruises and broken bones, but the humans' skin had not   
been pierced. And the fight would have ended in a fraction of the   
time had that not been necessary.  
  
"Good, I would have hated having to go out and find   
another batch of fools to lure here. Strip them. But be careful not   
to tear those uniforms." He looked down at Stev's body. He was   
about Hren Silra's size, it would be a tight fit in some places, loose   
in others, but it would do.  
  
In minutes the five Imperials had been undressed. Four   
ooglith masquers lay in a darkened corner of the slaughterhouse,   
they were called over and their face-sections were pressed against   
the faces of the corpses, long enough for the masquers' features to   
alter and match the Imperials'. Hren Silra placed his own   
masquer's 'face' on Stev's.  
  
Two Vong then placed the bodies over a drain while Nom   
Anor, the youngest present, fetched the ruaswyrms. The small,   
white grubs that the Yuuzhan Vong used to dispose of waste   
materials were released on the corpses, and quick as an eyeblink   
the thousands of tiny worms bored into their flesh.  
  
The gluttonous worms ate trails through the humans, and as   
they ate they excreted corrosive acids in their myriad wakes.   
Within moments the bodies began to deflate, to collapse in on   
themselves. In less then half an hour the five were completely   
liquefied. The ruaswyrms were summoned back into their   
container. One of the Vong unrolled a long hose from the wall,   
twisted the spigot and sprayed the floor. The five Yuuzhan Vong   
gathered their ooglith masquers and turned to the uniforms.  
  
A little less than an hour after they entered the old   
slaughterhouse, the five Imperial fleet troopers appeared to exit the   
building. They spread out and made for the central Marketplace,   
where Grand Admiral Thrawn himself would appear to sign the   
formal treaty in a few hours' time.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Default Chapter Title

Chapter Four  
  
Vergere stared, open-mouthed, at the intruder before   
switching of her lightsaber. "What in the name of the Force are   
you doing here?"  
  
Oin shrugged half-heartedly. "It was a long trip, I thought   
I'd have a snack."  
  
"You know what I'm talking about!" She snapped.   
"Why did you stow away on my ship? And for that matter where   
were you hiding?" They were speaking the Nesz tongue, but Oin   
could speak excellent Basic as well.  
  
"I hid in that little room you use to sit and think in." The   
storage closet she used to meditate. "I thought a Nesz   
should be here to help save the Nesz. And," he looked sheepish,  
"I was curious too, about other worlds than what I know."  
  
"Well," She looked around as if an answer would pop out   
of the walls, what would her Master do right now? "There's   
nothing to do about it now. I need to leave the ship, I want you to   
stay here and out of trouble."  
  
Oin jumped up. "But I can't! That is, ah, you might need   
help. Where are we by the way? Which of those other worlds you   
talked about? Is this were we will find help driving off the   
Yuuzhan Vong?" Questions were coming hard and fast  
  
"Listen to me, Oin. You're very brave, but you've never   
been off your own world before. You know nothing of the galaxy.   
The best way to help me is to stay here."  
  
Oin protested weakly and hung his head as Verger packed   
some food and went to the airlock. Somehow she had to speak to   
the commander of the Imperial Fleet. Just in case Oin's agreement  
was less than sincere, she locked the door on her way out with a   
simple code. Now no one would be   
getting in or out.  
  
"Sorry Oin," she murmured, "but you're one variable I can't   
afford to have running loose. May the Force be with us all if I   
fail."  
  
*************************************  
  
Oin went to the airlock door, waited a few minutes, then   
sniffed at the buttons on the side panel. Vergere's sweat-smell   
lingered on four of the buttons, and he tried those until he found   
the pattern to open the door.  
  
"Sorry Vergere." he muttered as the airlock sealed itself   
behind him and he crept down the landing cradle's rampway. He   
would have liked to obey the Jedi, but was under orders from a   
much higher authority.  
  
  
He was amazed long before his clawed feet touched the   
pavement. The spaceport was crowded with ships, many of them   
much larger and more imposing than the Loon, as Vergere   
called her old freighter. Flying and rolling and walking around   
them were the port's droids, which serviced the vessels for a price.   
Oin knew what droids were, of course, he had seen pictures and   
holograms during Vergere's stay on his planet, she even kept a   
small cleaning and service droid onboard, but dozens of the   
mobile, metal beings, mere inches away from one's snout, was   
another thing entirely.  
  
And of course, there were the aliens. Beings that crawled,   
flew, floated on repulsor couches and breathed through filters and   
masks. He saw hair, scales, gills and feathers, sometimes all on   
the same creature!  
  
That was all tolerable, but what truly shocked Oin's Nesz   
sensibilities was the haste and business around him. Everyone   
pushing and shoving one another, all talking at once and eager to   
finish what they were doing and move on to something else.  
  
Nesz were generally a people who took life slow and   
managed to find some joy or value in whatever task was at hand.   
They didn't run headlong and helter-skelter like these beings, and   
they certainly were never so discourteous. It occurred to him for   
the first time that these creatures were separate from one   
another. One being didn't feel another's pain or joy as the Nesz   
did. Excluding the Yuuzhan Vong, Vergere was the only   
offworlder he'd met, and the Jedi was so in tune with the life-  
energy she was almost a Nesz herself. These people were   
different. They frightened him.  
  
Instinctively he kept low to the ground and inconspicuous   
as he made his way out of the spaceport. He tried to follow   
Vergere's scent at first, but it was soon lost in the tangle of smells,   
body odor and machine oil. Running from the madness, he made   
for a place he sensed was less hectic.  
  
The tapcaf near the spaceport was noisy, but at least beings   
seemed at ease here and the dark, cool and dimly lit common room   
was better than the harsh glare of the sun. He made his way to a   
darkened corner and sat down. He could sit and think awhile, at   
least, while he planned his next move.  
  
As he thought, he reached for the thick bandolier he wore,   
many pockets were sewn into it, but it was the one on the inside of   
the belt that he tapped for reassurance. The small wrapped bundle   
hidden there was the only hope for the Nesz survival. So the   
Eternal had said. They had charged Oin with this mission,   
entrusted him with this all-important object. It was his duty to   
make use of it, but only at the proper place. That place was   
obviously not here.  
  
But where to go? And how to get there?  
  
A high pitched gurgling directed at him caught Oin's   
attention. He looked up and at the glistening creature standing   
over him, if 'standing' was the right word. The thing was a mass of   
thick, ever-squirming tentacles that obscured its body. Some of   
the feelers ended in bulbus eyes, others in toothless sucker-mouths,   
but most were simply organs of manipulation.  
  
  
It stood on a single wide foot. On either side of the   
Miashku was a burly alien and a tripod protocol droid was near at   
hand. It gurgled at Oin again and the Nesz stood up on his short   
legs.  
  
"Um, hello?" He said tenativly in his own language. One   
of the aliens, a stupid-looking Barabel, snorted derisively and said   
something to the other. Both chuckled. Oin belatedly realized the   
aliens wouldn't know his tongue. He switched to the Basic he'd   
learned from Vergere and the Vong. "Is there any trouble?"  
  
Some of the Miashku's tentacles reared back and spoke to   
the droid. "You speak the human tongue?" The machine asked in   
Basic.  
  
"Yes." Oin said.  
  
"This illustrious fellow is with the port authorities, you are   
to come with us." One of the aliens offered him a wafer with a   
sweet but artifical smell, a treat of some kind. Both were edging   
towards him.  
  
While reason might tell Oin to obey the local authorities,   
his instincts screamed danger warnings. In a case like this, the   
Nesz was inclined to follow instinct. He made as if to take the   
sweet, then slid past the Barabel with the fluid speed of his kind.   
While the droid yelled commands in Basic for him to stop, the Miashku   
slapped the aliens with whiplike feelers, sending them after the   
Nesz.  
  
Music was blaring in the tapcaf to the movements of a   
holographic band. Oin dropped to all fours and slithered around   
and among the tables. Passing underneath one on which a sabacc   
game was being played, his tail brushed a female human's shins.   
She jumped, spilled the cards in her hand and a few up her sleeve.   
The game quickly became a brawl.  
  
The Barabel hurried to block the door while the other, a red-  
furred biped, pushed past the patrons in Oin's pursuit. The   
Miashku was moving as fast as it could also, which was much   
slower than the others.  
  
Oin jumped on a stool, then onto the bar itself. He ran   
across the stained surface and aliens either picked their drinks up   
in time or got them spilled. The barfight had grown to include the   
surrounding tables and the small, five-armed bartender shouted for   
the bouncers.  
  
The Nesz jumped to an empty table that broke under his   
weight and sent him to the floor. He bounded up, saw the other   
pursuer nearly on top of him and swung his tail at a chair. The   
alien's feet tangled in the chair legs and sent him sprawling, where   
he was trampled by the brawlers.  
  
  
The bouncers, two eight foot tall aliens with thick slabs of   
bone grown over various body parts, appeared from the back room.   
Both had stun blasters but in most cases could end a fight with   
their simple presence. One of them saw the Barabel blocking the   
door and roared at him to move. The alien, his eyes on the   
Nesz, palmed a small blaster from his sleeve and aimed it at Oin.   
The bouncer, seeing this and knowing no weapons were allowed in   
the tapcaf, wasted no time in closing the distance between them   
and slapping the blaster out of the Barabel's hand. He then simply   
picked the lackey up and hurled him into the mess of fighters.  
  
Oin ran out the doorway and into the bright sunlight, glad   
to be back in the busy atmosphere he had fled only moments   
before. His joy was short-lived as a tentacle snaked around his   
ankle and tripped him.  
  
His long, flexible neck bent around and he saw the   
Miashku, tentacle stretched to its limit, pulling him back as its   
single foot inched it through the door. A few months ago Oin   
wouldn't have known what to do, but experience with the Yuuzhan   
Vong had educated him. His claws slashed the feeler and it   
released him. More tentacles whipped at him, clutched at him, but   
Oin had strong jaws and sharp teeth as well as claws and the   
Miashku reared back, afraid of losing 'fingers' to this snapping   
monster.  
  
Oin was about to run, then he noticed something dangling   
from one of the alien's feelers. He looked down and felt his   
shoulder, then back at the Miashku: it had taken his bandolier!  
  
"Give that back!" He snapped in his own language. The   
Miashku was sliding away, however, tentacles squirming. Oin saw   
red. Fear forgotten, he charged the mass of tentacles.  
  
*******************************  
Vergere left her ship, paid the standardized berthing fee   
that would keep the vessel from being impounded for three days,   
then went to one of public consoles and paid for ten minutes'   
access to the planet's information network. She learned all she   
could about the Imperial presence before her ten minutes were up   
and she was cut off. She managed to learn about the public   
announcement that Miashku would seek membership in the   
Empire, and about the official ceremony to be held in a few hours   
at the Inner Ring where the commander himself, whose name was   
Grand Admiral Thrawn, would make a personal appearance.  
  
"That makes things simpler, at least." Vergere muttered as   
she walked to the edge of the spaceport. "All I need to do is get   
past a few hundred stormtroopers inclined to shoot first and ask   
questions later and convince one of the Emperor's top people to   
listen to a Jedi."  
  
With all this on her mind, the last thing she expected to see   
was her young stowaway attacking a Miashku port official outside   
a very tacky looking tapcaf. The Miashku was backing away as   
quickly as it could and trying not to be mauled by the reptile-man.  
  
"Stop this!" Vergere seized Oin's shoulder and held him   
back. The alien's tentacles writhed and sputtered in its own   
language. "What's this about?" She snapped at Oin. "I told you to   
stay on the ship!" The Nesz was almost unrecognizable in his fury.  
  
"He took my...my bandolier!" He hissed and Vergere saw   
the belt hanging from one of the feelers. She used the Force to   
give it a slight pull that made it drop to the ground. Oin broke   
away, moving with more speed than Vergere had ever seen in him,   
and caught it before it touched the ferocrete before darting back to her   
side.  
  
  
  
"Madame, this creature has assaulted a Miashku spaceport   
security agent!" A protocol droid exclaimed as it rolled out the   
door. The alien gurgled at them. "My master wished to inform   
you of the penalties for such an act." The alien's feelers writhed   
with apparent indignation, but through the Force Vergere felt fear   
and unease emanating from it. She could get nothing clearer as   
she was unfamiliar with this race's thought patterns, but a quick   
look into Oin's surface thoughts cleared things up.  
  
"Very well, lets go report this to the Portmaster. I'm sure it   
will be only to happy to investigate things." She spoke in Basic, as   
her own language was unknown here. The tentacles twitched in   
surprise, then quickly spoke.  
  
"My master does not think that necessary." The droid   
translated. "It believes settling this privately will be more   
convenient to all parties."  
  
"I can imagine." She said sarcastically. "Fine, here's my   
offer: stay away from me, my friend and my ship and I forget about   
this."   
  
The Miashku considered this while focusing a pair of eyes   
on her and Oin, noting how poorly the Jedi was clothed: she wore a   
homespun robe over simple but serviceable clothes. Obviously she   
had little in the way of money.  
  
On the other hand she and the little reptile might be worth   
something together. She would be easy to take: she was small and   
slight, only half a head taller than the short reptile. Besides the   
money it could make from them there was the matter of her ship, it   
would get a share of the profits once it was impounded and sold   
after the owner disappeared. The Miashku's hired thugs were   
being shown out of the tapcaf along with the other brawlers and it   
was about to order them to seize the two offworlders.  
  
It didn't give the order. This Miashku made a living on   
reading other beings and there was something subtlety dangerous   
about her, and it already knew the reptile was vicious. Its instincts   
warned it off and it was inclined to agree. In any case they were   
moving away from it by now and the opportunity had passed.  
  
"Why did you leave the ship?" Vergere demanded. "And   
how did you get out in the first place?"  
  
"What did they want with me?" Oin asked after explaining.  
  
"That Miashku must have seen you sneaking off the ship.   
It thought you were a slave or a pet. It wanted to sell you."  
  
"Why would it think that?"  
  
  
"You're not wearing clothes." She answered. "No one   
knows all the different races out here, and which ones are sentient.   
If a being doesn't have the trappings of civilization then it's   
generally considered nonsentient. It either thought you were an   
animal or too weak to defend yourself." She shook her head.   
"You see why I didn't want you here? This part of the galaxy is   
wild space, Oin. There are no laws and no sure protection for   
anyone but the strong and the rich."  
  
"But you threatened to tell its elder, this Portmaster, what   
it was doing."  
  
"What it was doing was trying to kidnap and sell a traveler   
without giving the Portmaster a share in the profits. The Miashku   
in charge of this spaceport probably runs everything that goes on   
here, and nothing is legal or illegal."  
  
Oin suppressed a shudder, how could people live like that?  
  
"Are you going to stay in the ship now?" Vergere pressed.   
Oin only shook his head. "Blast it, I thought you had sense!" She   
snapped.  
  
"Sense enough to know even a Jedi will need help here."  
  
Vergere closed her eyes and took a calming breath. "So be   
it then."  
  
They approached the Inner Ring, were Grand Admiral   
Thrawn was scheduled to appear. Oin was amazed at what he saw   
as they neared the edge of the Inner Ring. The capital of the planet   
was literally half a mile above the surface.  
  
A forest of white pillars thicker, it seemed, than mountains supported a   
city of glittering towers crisscrossed by small, personal craft.   
Gangs had sprayed the bases of the towers with graffiti, which   
several hundred droids were busily cleaning.  
  
"Those are the repulserlifts," Vergere pointed to the   
floating platforms, large enough to hold a dozen beings at once,   
"they are one of the two ways into the Inner Ring. We wont be   
using them." Her cloak swirled around her as she approached one   
of the outer pillars. Oin saw that there was a spiraling stairway   
built into the side. "This way is better: it's free and we wont be   
noticed."  
  
There was a guard stationed at the pillar and he started to   
block the Jedi's way, but she merely looked at him for a few   
seconds and he stepped back to his post, face clear of hostility.   
Oin followed Vergere, confused.  
  
"Why don't you want to be seen?" He asked her. "And   
what planet is this? Is it were we'll find help to free my people?"  
  
  
"It's were we'll find help to fight the Yuuzhan Vong." She   
answered, seeing the Star Destroyer in her mind's eye. "The   
Miashku planet is a major trade center for this sector." She went   
on as they climbed. "Considered neutral ground by every power,   
until now at any rate. Now the Empire is moving to add this planet   
to its territory. I came here to speak to the Imperial commander.   
They're the only ones strong enough to fight the Vong."  
  
After an eternity of climbing they came up at the edge of   
the Inner Ring. There were small spaceports up there as well,   
where private yachts of the wealthy were berthed. There were   
towers of glass and mirrors, shining architectural masterpieces   
with vaulting spires and overhangs. The homes and business   
centers of the elite.  
  
"We need to get to the Capital Marketplace. That's where   
the commander is scheduled to appear." She said softly.  
  
"Why not just go to one of his soldiers and ask to be taken   
to him?" Oin inquired.  
  
"The Empire and the Jedi are not on the best of terms."   
She whispered in the Nesz tongue, there were many beings on the   
street and she didn't dare risk being overheard. That was easy:   
their poor clothing and Vergere's subtle use of the Force   
guaranteed they would go unnoticed. "They would be inclined to   
shoot first and talk afterwards-" She trailed off, seeing for the first   
time that not all the Imperials on shore leave were human.  
  
Yes, she had seen a great many Chiss since entering the   
upper city, but it hadn't registered that they wore Imperial   
uniforms. Aliens serving in the Imperial fleet?  
  
Oin noticed her surprise, but before he could ask her what   
was wrong a hologram appeared a nearby street corner, one of the   
methods used for public announcements. A hologram of a   
Miashku High Councilor began to talk and the speakers on several   
nearby streetlamp poles blared the words in several different   
languages: Miashku, Chiss and the tongues of a few other   
influential races. A small crowd was gathering and the Jedi and   
Nesz stayed close together.  
  
It took a few minutes for them to find a speaker translating   
into Basic, and when they did many of the words were blotted out   
by the others. Oin caught the words "Empire" and "signing," and,   
with significance attached to it, "Grand Admiral Thrawn." Vergere   
jerked in shock as the hologram switched to another figure. That   
of an aristocratic Chiss in the white uniform of a Grand Admiral.   
He tried to get her attention but her violet eyes were riveted on   
the image.  
  
Vergere stared at the Chiss face, willing herself to be   
mistaken but knowing she was not. This was the man from her   
dream, the one who fought Sang Anor and, along with him,   
destroyed the Nesz.  
  
*************************************  
"-and move forward into a new and brighter future."   
Thrawn finished and the hologram broadcast switched off. "Is my   
shuttle ready?" He asked Parck.  
  
"Yes sir, and all other preparations are as you specified."  
  
  
"Good. I will embark for the planet in one hour." He sat at   
his command chair, activated a console and bent his attention on it.  
  
"I wish you'd let me go with you." Parck bit out.  
  
"No Captain, if anything should go wrong I will need you   
up here to coordinate things. Not that I expect anything of the   
kind." He smiled slightly. "And if I am wrong, we will simply   
have to improvise."  
  
*************************************  
They saw more Miashku and many more Imperials the   
closer they came to the center of the city. Vergere and Oin   
retreated into an alleyway near the capital building. "I need an   
opportunity to somehow speak with Thrawn alone." She still had   
trouble believing the Emperor would make a Chiss one of his   
Grand Admirals.  
  
In any case, she had enough evidence to convince even the   
most skeptical of Imperials of the threat Sang Anor posed. The   
datacard in her robe's pocket had detailed images of their works on   
Sevac III, along with a carefully compiled report on what to expect   
from them. She had begun that report in her mind over thirty years   
ago, when she had surrendered to the Yuuzhan Vong task force in   
order to save the inhabitants of Zonama Sekot, the most amazing   
inhabitant being the planet itself!  
  
She couldn't help the sigh that escaped her: she had seen   
neither her Master nor any other Jedi since then, but she had felt   
them as they died. Thracia most of all. Now it seemed she must   
make a choice between the Sith and the Empire they had built and   
the Yuuzhan Vong vision of the future, with the lives of innocents   
caught in between.  
  
But at least with the Empire there was hope, a chance for   
rebellion. The Vong would change more than the government   
under which the people lived, they would change the people   
themselves. There would be no escape, and the Jedi would never   
again rise: Sang Anor would cut the beings of this galaxy off from   
the Force itself.  
  
"Come on, we need to get a closer look at the   
Marketplace." She started to leave the alley, Oin beside her.   
Suddenly the Nesz's eyes widened and his clawed hands grabbed   
Vergere. He pulled her back just before she would have run right   
into a passing Imperial. Vergere jumbled back and pressed herself   
against the wall. Her eyes were wide with terror. The human was   
tall, broad shouldered and strong looking, but that wasn't what   
frightened her.  
  
She hadn't sensed him approaching through the Force, nor   
did she now, though she bent all her will on the figure. Her senses   
told her nothing was there. She knew what that meant.  
  
Oin's eyes were narrow slits, his nostrils quivered. He   
Couldn't sense the Force but he had a sensitive nose, and he   
recognized the 'human's' lean but broad-shouldered shape, the   
deadly grace of movement and the ingrained arrogance that made   
him seem to stalk and swagger at the same time.  
  
  
"One of them!" He hissed.  
  
"Yes." Vergere nodded slowly. A Yuuzhan Vong in   
human guise, and in the uniform of an Imperial. This complicated   
things, especially as both she and the Nesz race were known to   
them. "And not just one if I know Sang Anor. It's more important   
than ever that I talk to Thrawn."  
  
*************************************  
Nom Anor paused after passing the alleyway. He had seen   
something out of the corner of his eye. Movement: a small, slight   
figure in a cloak and a slightly shorter but much broader creature.   
Probably nothing, some of this world's criminal vermin, but   
something tugged at his memory and made him uneasy.   
Something about the cloaked one. He half turned and reached into   
the pocket of his stolen uniform, ignoring the blaster, that   
perverted machine at his side, in favor of a long-bladed coufee   
strapped to his thigh under the uniform.  
  
"Are you coming yet, or does the scenery interest you?"   
The speech was Basic, but the voice and tone were unmistakable.   
His lips tight and angry under his second skin, Nom Anor turned   
back and hurried toward the Vong warrior.  
  
The Vong full warrior, who regarded him with cold   
contempt, then looked over and around him as if he were a   
smashed bug. "Warrior," he said softly, "I saw something-"  
  
"I expect total obedience from you, feenir." He overrode   
Nom Anor. "Do not get distracted from your duties again." He   
turned on his heel and stalked towards the Marketplace, Nom Anor   
followed, seething inside. The curt dismissal said it all: the   
warrior's contempt for him, that Nom Anor was nothing in his   
eyes, a stripling who was here only because of his father's power   
and importance.  
  
So be it then. He would simply have to prove them all   
wrong.  
  
They met with the other three covert warriors at a small   
restaurant. They sat at an outdoor table and gave their reports to   
Hren Silra. The Vong commander nodded and told them each   
what positions to take.  
  
"You will have the honor of striking the death blow." He   
said to the senior warrior. He bowed his head, pride and disgust   
mingling on his face: he would, of course, be required to use the   
blaster at his side. A machine.  
  
"Think of the irony, warrior." Hren Silra smiled. "To use   
the machine-mens' own weapons against them. May Yun Harla   
hide us and guide our hands."  
  
They all bowed their heads in prayer. Nom Anor couldn't   
wait until this was over. He felt suffocated in these machine made   
clothes and objects. The sooner the Chiss admiral was dead, the   
better.  
  
  
Yet he couldn't help that nagging unease...  
  
*************************************  
Grand Admiral Thrawn's shuttle set down at a landing pad   
near the edge of the city. Stormtroopers had already disembarked   
and assembled and a vehicle was waiting for Thrawn himself. The   
Chiss admiral ascended the steps to the railed platform atop the   
hovercar and the parade began.  
  
Ranks of stormtroopers marched behind the vehicle as it   
moved down the street. Hovering camera droids darted around and   
reporters spoke into comm-broadcasters. Citizens, merchants,   
Miashku leaders and powerful traders lined the street, watching to   
see how the balance of economic power in this sector was shifting   
and how they could take advantage of it.  
  
Overhead, wings of TIE fighters streaked across the sky,   
showing incredible precision in the high speed maneuvers.   
Quickly but majestically, the Imperials made their way to the   
center of the city where an ornate platform with a long table had   
been set up. The High Councilors were assembled behind it, their   
bejeweled tentacles flashed in the bright sunlight.  
  
"Quite a spectacle." Vergere murmured. Her violet eyes   
flashed from the depths of her hood as she scanned the   
marketplace as she moved, using the Force to project an aura of   
inconspicuousness. She cast out her senses in a wide net and   
searched for people who didn't register in the Force. Ah yes, she   
could see Sang Anor's hand in this. The Executor was devious,   
and this was an opportunity he couldn't resist: to break up the   
alliance that was giving the Empire so many advantages in the   
Unknown Regions without revealing himself at all.  
  
The Imperials were in sight now as well as on the public   
viewscreens, moving to the dais. Vergere fisted her hands in   
frustration, it was no good: there were just too many minds here to   
zero in on a few blank spots. She would have to wait until Sang   
Anor's agents made their move.  
  
"Here," she handed Oin a small hold-out blaster, "take this   
and stay beside me." The weapon was small enough for the Nesz   
to conceal in his palm. She had let him fire a similar weapon a   
few times before on his homeworld. He'd never killed anyone and   
he wasn't anything resembling a good marksman, but he knew how   
to use the thing. He could hopefully defend himself.  
  
"We need to find someplace we can see what's happening,   
preferably at the edge of the crowd." She discounted a sniper or a   
bomb would be used: it was essential to Sang Anor's plans that the   
assassin be visible when he struck, that there be no doubt that   
human hands killed the Grand Admiral.  
  
The Chiss walked up the steps to the dais, the Councilors   
bent the top parts of their bodies in imitation of a bow and Thrawn   
inclined his head in response. He was flanked by two Royal   
Guardsmen, their blood-red capes contrasting sharply with   
Thrawn's white uniform.  
  
  
"My friends," amplifiers carried Thrawn's voice throughout   
the square, "you bear witness to the future this day. A future where   
beings will no longer live in fear for their lives and property. A   
future where the rule of law will replace the rule of force. Order   
will replace chaos and all will be free to work and prosper in peace   
under the benevolence of the Emperor."  
  
*************************************  
Hren Silra followed Thrawn with his eyes, a tight smile on   
his face. Yes, almost, but not quite yet. He fingered one of the   
small but powerful grenades hidden in his clothes, as they were   
concealed in the clothing of the other three Vong situated   
throughout the square. The chaos they would create would aid in   
the assassin's escape after he struck.  
  
Thrawn's brief but stirring speech was coming to a close,   
along with his life. Hren Silra's smile widened a fraction as he   
imagined how pleased the Executor would be with his success.  
  
*************************************  
"-and the future begins today!" Thrawn concluded   
triumphantly. Applause roared in the square as he took up the   
golden datapad and pressed his thumb to the scanner to read his   
print. He had charisma, Vergere had to admit. She jumped onto   
one of the news hovervans broadcasting the signing, grabbed the   
roof with her hands, swung her legs over and lay flat on the roof.   
Searching, searching...there!  
  
A human fleet trooper, half a head taller than those around   
him, moving through the ranks of stormtroopers to the foot of the   
dais, not so much pushing his way past as flowing through them   
with deadly grace. Quick as a hunting cat he mounted the first two   
steps. His hand gripped the blaster at his side, intense   
concentration on his face. She bent her will on him, probed him   
with the Force. As she though, nothing. This was it!  
  
*************************************  
On the bridge of the Admonitor, Captain Parck watched   
the signing on the main viewscreen. So far, everything was going   
smoothly...wait!  
  
A fleet trooper walking up the steps behind Thrawn,   
drawing a blaster and aiming it. Turn around! he screamed   
silently to the Royal Guards on either side of the Admiral, the   
Emperor's precious elite soldiers, useless!  
  
*************************************  
Despite herself, Vergere had to admire Sang Anor's   
cunning. Thrawn would be on guard against an attack, but from   
his own people? Never!  
  
She pulled a vibroblade from her robe, rose to her knees   
and cocked back her arm. I am saving the life of one of the   
Emperor's warlords, she thought, saving him so he can help   
destroy the Nesz, who are guiltless of anything. The 'human'   
pointed his blaster between the two Guardsmen, at the back of the   
admiral's head. She threw, the blade spun...  
  
  
And the Yuuzhan Vong dropped the blaster and clutched   
his throat, where the hilt of a vibroblade suddenly sprouted. He   
fell backwards onto the stairs.  
  
*************************************  
Thrawn's head twisted around to look at the fallen man,   
then snapped back, eyes wide and glowing crimson. He dropped   
into a defensive crouch and the Royal Guardsmen belatedly moved   
to shield him with their bodies and usher him into the ranks of   
stormtroopers.  
  
The Grand Admiral shoved their red-guantleted hands away   
and pushed past them to look in the direction the throw had come   
from. Looking past the writhing tentacles of the panicked High   
Councilors, he saw a small figure in a robe jumped to its feet and   
stand atop a broadcast vehicle.  
  
*************************************  
On the bridge of the Admonitor Captain Parck bolted up   
from the command chair. On the main viewscreen the camera eye   
focused on the dead Imperial, then zipped to the knife-thrower. A   
sharp hiss of relief escaped through his clenched teeth: the Admiral   
was safe, for the moment at least.  
  
Only now did he become aware of the talking on the   
bridge, that many of the crewers had stood and left their stations.  
  
"Order!" He barked. "Order on the bridge! Back to your   
stations!" His hands fisted helplessly: there was nothing he could   
do about the events planetside, but by Vader's teeth he would keep   
things together up here! If whoever was behind this tried an attack   
on the Admonitor, they wouldn't find the Star Destroyer off its   
guard.  
  
*************************************  
"You!" A stormtrooper aimed a blaster rifle at Vergere, by   
the melodious quality of the voice, even in issuing a sharp   
command, she guessed there was a blue face under the white   
helmet. "Freeze!" Two more leveled their weapons at the small,   
brown-robed alien.  
  
Vergere raised her hands and the long sleeves fell away   
from her bare arms. Her hands in plain sight, she pulled back her   
hood. She silently and ironically thanked Sang Anor: he had given   
her the perfect opportunity to speak to the Imperial commander.   
Now he would certainly listen to what she and Oin had to say, and   
with her datacard and a Yuuzhan Vong body to back up her story-  
  
"Jedi!" A scream of the purest hate. A man pushed   
through to the foot of the van, shoved beings away like rag dolls.   
A 'man' who didn't register in the Force. The Vong's face was a   
twisted mask in every sense, his lips peeled back to show jagged   
fangs. The same one who had passed them in the alley, Vergere   
was sure of it, and his enraged voice was familiar.  
  
"A filthy Jedi!" Nom Anor pulled the blaster free and   
opened fire, not caring if it was a machine he was using.  
  
  
Verger moved faster than the eye could follow. Her   
lightsaber was in her hand and blazing violet before anyone knew   
what was happening. Almost of its own volition, the blade moved   
to block Nom Anor's blasterfire.  
  
But that was only the beginning. The stormtroopers around   
the van were shooting at her, too many to deflect. She jumped and   
backflipped through the air. Stormtroopers and the mercenary   
police force tried to converge on her when she landed, but the   
lightsaber gave her breathing space and deflected the blaster bolts   
back into the shooters. Men screamed and fell, wounded by their   
own fire, and those that got too close were soon missing half a   
blaster. Or a hand. Nom Anor tried to push to the front but the   
numbers rushing past him for even a Yuuzhan Vong to overcome.  
  
"Oin, where are you?" The Nesz appeared beside her.   
"Come on!" She slashed her lightsaber and one of the poles fell,   
bisected. A shove with the force sent the pole, lengthwise and at   
knee-level, into the advancing troopers. Stormtroopers tripped and   
fell by the dozen and Vergere turned and ran.  
  
*************************************  
Thrawn saw the violet blade of what was unmistakably a   
lightsaber and his breath caught in his throat. He'd been in close   
contact with Lord Vader and the Emperor often enough to know   
what a Jedi was capable of, and he was uneasy about anything that   
could look inside his mind, that could see his plans and   
understand how he thought.  
  
But if this Jedi was here to kill him, as one would logically   
conclude, then why wasn't he dead? The Jedi evaded the   
stormtroopers with ease and disappeared into the crowd, a short,   
lizardlike alien beside him.  
  
A blur of red on either side of him-the Royal Guardsmen   
bounded past him and vaulted over the railing like twin waterfalls   
of blood. Thrawn activated the comm link at his collar, keyed to   
the receivers built into the Guardsmens' helmets.  
  
"Guardsmen!" He snapped. "I order you to capture that   
Jedi! Bring him to me alive!"  
  
"We serve the Emperor, not you." The answering voice   
was a cold, harsh rasp in Thrawn's ear. "His Majesty's standing   
orders are for the termination of all Jedi." The signal cut off.   
They were working their way rapidly through the crowd, beings   
got out of the way or were shoved aside.  
  
Thrawn bit out a curse in his own language, then turned the   
comm to a different frequency. "Major," he spoke to the   
commander of the stormtrooper companies, "have your men take   
control of the Inner Ring spaceports, lifts and stairways. No one   
enters or leaves this city!" There were definite advantages to being   
half a mile up in the air. "I want a search pattern carried out, set   
weapons for stun only. I repeat, stun only!" He turned to some   
nearby stormtroopers.  
  
  
"Take that to my shuttle." He pointed to the corpse, then   
turned to the panicked Councilors: he had to salvage this situation   
if he wanted to keep their alliegence.  
  
*************************************  
Vergere and Oin hurried down the street, she ducked inside   
a store and pulled Oin with her just as a group of stormtroopers   
turned a corner.  
  
The Miashku shopkeeper lashed its tentacles in alarm as   
the two fugitives ran through the store toward the back entrance,   
knocking over crystal plates and goblets. The stormtroopers must   
have seen them because white-armored men crowded through the   
doorway, and to Vergere's surprise stun bolts, not lethal fire,   
blazed through the air. She ducked and rolled through the door   
while Oin sidestepped and dove after her. The shopkeep tried to   
back away, was caught by a stun bolt and collapsed on its broken   
wares.  
  
"We've found them!" She heard a stormtrooper say into   
his comm link as she slammed the door and jammed the lock with   
the Force.  
  
"You still in one piece?" She asked Oin.  
  
"Yes," he clutched the bandolier to his chest to reassure   
him it was still there, "I think I've seen enough of 'civilization' to   
last three lifetimes!"  
  
"I agree." They ran past a dumpster and startled a nest of   
ranats. "If we live through this I might consider a long vacation in   
a swamp planet, or maybe a desert." They took a shortcut through   
a park of sculpted gardens, making for the edge of the Ring.  
  
"How will we get down?" Oin panted.  
  
"I have a plan-" blaster bolts burned through the air, seared   
the elaborate trees and hedges. Clouds of bright, multicolored   
songbirds flew from their perches in panicked waves as a dozen   
stormtroopers tromped after the Jedi. Bad, but not nearly as bad as   
what appeared around the corner of a domed building in the park.  
  
An AT-ST Walker trotted into sight on its bent-back   
chicken legs. The boxlike head swiveled, the chin-mounted   
blasters aimed...  
  
Blaster bolts dug twin craters in the path were Oin and   
Vergere once stood. Vergere had jumped to the right while Oin   
headed left. The Jedi looked back but couldn't see her friend, and   
the Force was too disturbed to focus on a single being. The   
stormtroopers were shooting and the Walker stalked a few more   
steps before taking aim.  
  
With no other option, Vergere ran and hoped Oin would   
fare decently.  
  
*************************************  
Concealed in the boughs of the tree he'd swung up into,   
Oin watched the Imperials chase Vergere and leave him alone. He   
breathed a sigh of relief, followed immediately by a grimace of   
shame. The Jedi had been right, he had no place here: the worlds   
above his own sky were insane!  
  
The allies Vergere sought were as intent on destroying   
them as the Vong, and Oin had made no progress on his mission   
from the Eternals. He dropped to the scorched ground and went in   
the same direction as the white-armored warriors. One thing was   
clear: Vergere was his friend, more than that, she was his only   
chance. No one else in this greedy, violent universe cared a wit   
about the plight of the Nesz, no one else would help Oin.  
  
He still had the blaster she'd given him. He knew how to   
use it, but to kill...unthinkable! And yet, if there was no other   
course...  
  
*************************************  
The four surviving Yuuzhan Vong met in the restroom of a   
small luncheonette in the Marketplace. They barricaded the door   
with a machine that dispensed small packets of tentacle lubricant   
then had a calm assessment of the situation.  
  
"A disaster!" One warrior hissed. "We have shown our   
hand and achieved nothing-" he was silenced by a lash from Hren   
Silra's fist.  
  
"You were not given leave to speak." He snarled and   
shoved him to the floor. Enraged, the Vong tried to bound up, but found   
Hren Silra's foot pressed down on his neck. "And if I did not need   
your help I'd rip your spine out for this display." He turned on them   
all. "Do you forget who you are? We are Yuuzhan Vong! This   
mission can yet be salvaged." He released the warrior and glared   
at them all from the eye-openings of his ooglith masquer.  
  
"How?" Another whispered.  
  
"Where you see failure, I see opportunities. We will try   
again, and this time we will succeed." He grinned. "If anything, I   
believe we can accomplish more than the Executor ever expected!"   
He told them his plan and sent two of the warriors to their local   
base-the hotel Hren Silra had rented-ordering them to change into   
Chiss ooglith masquers and bring a few other items along as well.  
  
"But destroy everything else, even the ooglith masquers you   
now wear. Turn the ruaswyrms on them and then meet us at the   
east spaceport in one quarter of an hour." After they left he turned   
to Nom Anor.  
  
  
"That was quick thinking." He said. "The Jedi nearly   
ruined everything, but the chaos you caused kept her from   
speaking with Thrawn, and then our mission here would have   
failed. Your actions gave us the chance to rectify the situation."   
His eyes gleamed. "Having a disgruntled human-supremacist from   
the Empire's own ranks kill Thrawn would have sufficed-but when   
Thrawn is found gutted onboard his own Star Destroyer, killed by   
those red guards of obviously acting under the Emperor's   
orders, then this neat little alliance will dissolve into a bloodbath!"  
  
Nom Anor listened, but his eyes burned with a different   
fire. "Master, I wish to go after the Jedi." He bit out with all the   
respect he could muster.  
  
"Under no circumstances. You will be needed to complete   
our mission."  
  
"This is a blood-debt, Master, a matter of honor for all   
Domain Anor!" He ground his teeth and began to lower himself to   
his knees. "I beg you-"  
  
"I said no!" Hren Silra's hand shot out, gripped Nom   
Anor's shoulder and pulled him to his feet. "This mission is all   
important, it comes before all familial obligations. He shook the   
feenir. "Remember who you are, Nom Anor, and cool your   
blood. I know what this Jedi did to you and the Executor before   
her escape, but now is not the time."  
  
Nom Anor straightened and bowed his head. "I will obey."   
He followed Hren Silra out the door.  
  
*************************************  
Vergere pressed herself against a wall and took a few deep   
breathes. She had lost her pursuers, at least for the moment, but   
she had also lost Oin.  
  
She was in a parking basement under one of the office   
buildings. Spacious, dimly lit and almost empty but for a few   
hovercars. She sank down and buried her face in her hands.   
Things had not gone well at all. She had a tenuous plan for getting   
back to her ship, but that would mean leaving Oin to fend for   
himself. Also she still hadn't spoken to Thrawn, her entire reason   
for coming here.  
  
There was another way to make the Empire aware of Sang   
Anor: she could simply broadcast her message via her ship's   
comm-either contact the Admonitor directly or make the   
announcement on an open, broad-band. She had wished to avoid   
that: it would start a panic and Sang Anor would know for certain   
he'd been discovered. It seemed that was the only way, though.  
  
Unfortunately that would mean leaving Oin. The young   
Nesz was her responsibility, never mind that he had stowed away   
and followed her: she had still misled him about where she was   
going, about how hostile the other planets were, of course he   
would believe they would be seeking friends who would help   
them. She had led them to believe just that, to ensure the Nesz   
would cooperate with her in gathering information on Sang Anor's   
activities.  
  
  
She took a deep breath and stood. There were times the   
Jedi had to be absolutely ruthless. It would hurt her to leave Oin   
behind, but unless they ran into each other again she could see no   
other way. She would get to her ship and contact the Imperials,   
then do her best to track down Oin when the search cooled. In any   
case, her vision had assured her that Oin would live. Long enough   
to see the destruction of his world and people at any rate. The   
memory of that suffering face and those grieving eyes returned. Yes,   
Oin would be the last of the Nesz, the future was always in motion,   
but some things were inevitable.  
  
Vergere pushed away from the wall and walked past one of   
the many thick support pillars. Only a tingling through the Force   
warned her of the attack.  
  
A tall, bright red figure leapt from behind the pillar, a force   
pike whirled in his hands and his cloak billowed around him in a   
crimson cloud. The Royal Guardsman aimed his slash at her knees   
but the Jedi jumped, somersaulted over his head to land behind   
him. He spun on his heel and launched another attack, but   
Vergere's lightsaber was out and blazing by then. She swung the   
weapon and the Imperial's staff was neatly cut in two.  
  
She struck again but the Guardsman jumped back, twirling   
a half of the pike in either hand like twin short swords. The Jedi made   
to attack again, but was warned by the Force just in time to drop   
and roll as the second Guardsman charged, coming within a hair of   
decapitating her.  
  
By a feather, she amended, seeing a few of her crest-  
feathers drifting down to the floor.  
  
Quickly she sized up the situation. Both the towering men   
were much taller than her and heavily armed. More, they were the   
Emperor's own elite guard, intensely trained and in prime   
condition. She was a Jedi Knight, the greatest of the galaxy's   
warriors, but she was also exhausted while they were fresh.  
  
"Listen," she said as the Guardsmen separated and moved   
to circle her, "I have information your master will want-" she tried   
to buy time while she swept the barren lot with a mental probe,   
searched for any loose item light enough to levitate and throw at   
them. No good, the lot was meticulously clean and the Red   
Guards weren't interesting in listening or talking.  
  
The one with the whole force pike pulled a blaster from   
under his robes and shot at her. The lightsaber moved, deflected   
the bolts back at him. Or where he used to be, he was moving as   
he shot, and when she turned to block the shots the other Imperial   
attacked her from behind. She bounded at the shooter, inches   
away from having her spine sliced by half a force pike. A slash of   
the energy blade cut the blaster in half, but the shooter simply   
dropped it and swung his pike under her guard with intent to   
disembowel.  
  
She sidestepped backward, moving out of the pike's range   
and spinning to meet the one with the forcepike halves, but he   
moved with more agility than one would believe of such a tall and   
heavily armored man and dodged her saber even as his partner   
made a lance-strike at her head.  
  
  
Now their strategy was clear: attack her from two sides at   
once, she couldn't defend effectively or launch a counterattack   
against one because the other would move against her while she   
was occupied. She tried to use some of the mind tricks Thracia,   
her Master, had taught: instilling a sense of fear or overconfidence,   
confusing the senses so that one would see or hear things not   
present, and that always-handy trick of switching her image with   
that of his partner in the Red Guard's mind. To her surprise none   
of it worked. The Emperor must have trained his bodyguards   
against such things. She could receive emotions from them,   
anticipate what they would do, but she couldn't affect their minds.  
  
In any case, she had no time to concentrate on a mental   
assault as one of the Guardsmen charged her. She backpeddled as   
he drove her toward a parked hovercar with his pike. The Jedi   
jumped, landed on the car's hood and jumped again when the   
Imperial aimed a slash at her legs. She timed her landing,   
however, so that her she was able to ram her heel onto the   
staff. His weapon trapped, the Guardsman pulled a long   
vibroblade from his robes and stabbed at her. Vergere wasted no   
time in swinging her lightsaber in an arc that would have   
decapitated the man had he been any slower at ducking.  
  
The instant she took the initiative the other Guardsman   
moved in and threw a vibroblade of his own. The lightsaber swept   
up to cut the knife in two while Vergere kicked the first   
Guardsman's blade out of his hand. This was getting her nowhere:   
one at a time she could take them easily, but eventually they would   
wear her down. They worked too well together, were too much in   
sync. She had to take one out, and quickly.  
  
The knife-thrower was drawing a small blaster while the   
other tried to free his trapped pike. Vergere moved faster than   
could be believed, a kick to the first one's face sent him staggering   
back: even though his face was protected by his face mask the   
impact was painful.  
  
Quickly, the Jedi gathered herself up and sprang at the   
other Guardsman, the one with the pike halves. She closed the   
distance between them in a few bounds. He fired his weapon with   
deadly accuracy, but her lightsaber was everywhere at once,   
blocking every shot. Before the Red Guard could take a half-step   
back and delay her until his partner could help him the Jedi had   
brought herself within striking range and the blaster, as well as the   
man's smoking hand, tumbled across the floor.  
  
Incredibly, the Guardsman's only reaction was to stab at her with   
his pike half. With a flick of her wrist she amputated his other arm   
up to the elbow. In a single, fluid movement she spun around,   
reversed her lightsaber and stabbed backward into the Guardsman.   
The blade pierced his armor, skin, bones, lung and heart.  
  
She deactivated the blade and heard the body drop to the   
floor as she held the handle in front of her and snapped the blade   
on again to face the warrior who would be closing behind her.  
  
The Guardsman wasn't there.  
  
Vergere twisted her body just in time to avoid the blade of   
a force pike. She couldn't avoid the guantleted fist that impacted   
the side of her head. A kick knocked her feet out from under her   
and she fell to the floor. She let go of the lightsaber, which died as   
soon as it left her hand. The handled rolled across the floor.  
  
  
She shook her head, dazed. She looked up and her eyes   
focused on the blood-red Guardsman towering over her. Vergere   
opened her hand and her lightsaber switched on and flew at the   
Imperial's back like a burning arrow.  
  
The Guardsman pivoted, the saber shot past him and his   
hand lashed out to grab the handle. The next second her own   
lightsaber was at her throat.  
  
Vergere felt the cold, controlled rage emanating from the   
mind behind the mask. Fury at his brother Guardsman's death. He   
would kill her, now, with her own weapon.  
  
But how? She had seen the Imperials attacking the   
Yuuzhan Vong in her vision-dream, how could that come to pass if   
she died before talking to Thrawn? Perhaps when they searched   
her robes they would find the datacard. Perhaps they would   
capture Oin and he would reveal all under interrogation. Her   
vision did not specify that she would live to see the Nesz   
slaughter, only that Oin would. Devious is the future, Yoda had   
once said.  
  
When a bright light seared through the darkness she   
thought he'd killed her. But then she felt the Guardsman's shock   
as well. The starburst became a vehicle's headlight and a hovercar   
lifted off from its landing pad and flew at top speed a few   
handwidths over the floor. It flew straight at the Guardsman.  
  
Agility and fast reflexes let him survive. He jumped, rolled   
over the hood, hit the transparisteel windshield with his shoulder   
and bounced off. He landed on the floor and tried to get up again.   
The car jerked to a stop in front of Vergere, then swivelled   
sideways. The passenger-side door slid open and a welcome voice   
called:  
  
"Come on!"  
  
Vergere called to her lightsaber and the weapon flew into   
her hand. She clipped it to her belt and jumped into the backseat.   
A very frightened human male in a business suit was at the   
controls. Oin was on the seat beside him, pressing a blaster to the   
side of his head.  
  
"Make it go!" Oin ordered in Basic and snapped his jaws   
together. The human squeaked and turned up the accelerator. The   
speed pressed Vergere back against her seat. They shot through   
the parking garage at top speed, she was only grateful it was nearly   
empty, else the terrified driver would have crashed for sure.   
Looking out the rear window, she saw a receding red-robed figure   
stumbling upright.  
  
"Slow down." Vergere said calmly, reinforcing the   
command with the Force. So that the driver decelerated without   
thinking as they left the garage. They entered the flow of traffic,   
which was being held up by stormtroopers and Walkers searching   
the Inner Ring for her.  
  
She turned to Oin. "How did you find me?" Evening was   
fast approaching, not that the Inner Ring was ever dark. The   
streetlamps and building fairly glowed with luminance. If that   
wasn't enough, the bright searchlights atop the Walkers splashed   
pools of artificial light wherever they looked.  
  
"Easy, I saw the red robes and followed them into the   
under-place. They're good fighters, but easy to spot dressed up   
like that." Oin lowered his blaster and their captive breathed a sigh   
of relief. "I was too late to warn you, but I saw this man leaving   
one of the moving rooms and grabbed him, made him take us to   
his vehicle." Vergere knew the rest. Oin had been very lucky it   
was a human he encountered: he only spoke two languages, his   
own and Basic, which was simply the human language out here.   
An alien wouldn't have understood what he'd wanted.  
  
"Hey, um, guys?" The driver spoke up. "Listen I'm sure   
you got the wrong guy, I'm just, like, some accountant. I'm not   
one of the big fish around here, I was just working late. I'm-? he   
looked back at Vergere. "Hey! I saw you on the vidscreen at   
work, you're the one who tried to take out the Grand Admiral-" he   
turned white. "Not that I have anything against that. Empire's got   
no business out here. Hey, I'm with you." His eyes darted from   
her to Oin frantically.  
  
"How reassuring." She said dryly. "Calm down," she   
patted him on the shoulder, letting calmness flow into him, "your   
involvement in this is over. Tell me, is this vehicle insured against   
theft?" At his wooded nod she smiled. "Then you have nothing to   
worry about. Open the door and get out."  
  
The man wasted no time in sliding out of his seat and   
running down the sidewalk. Vergere climbed into the driver's seat   
and shut the door. Stormtroopers were walking along the row of   
hovercars, looking inside. The trick of not being noticed wouldn't   
work with so many on their guard. "Fasten your safety straps."   
She said, then had to show her friend what and how to do that.   
"This is a bumpy ride." She pulled out of the flow of traffic and   
onto the sidewalk, then sped parallel to the road.  
  
Stormtroopers and Walkers wasted no time in opening fire,   
but Vergere handled the bulky hovercar like a speeder. With the   
acceleration on high, they were soon past the holdup and in normal   
traffic. She swerved and shot past slower vehicles, driving almost   
double the speed limit and avoiding wrecks by bare inches.  
  
The comm system sputtered to life. "This is ground-traffic   
control," a protocol droid said in Basic, the vehicle was registered   
to a human, after all, "you are in transgression of twelve major and   
minor violations of Miashku vehicular law: speeding, reckless   
endangerment-" there was a buzz as the signal was cut off. "Jedi,"   
the authoritative tone screamed 'stormtrooper,' "in the name of the   
Emperor, stop the vehicle or be terminated!" Vergere's response   
was to shove her vibroblade into the comm speaker.  
  
"That's one distraction we don't need."  
  
"I hope you have a plan." Oin's eyes were squeezed shut   
and his clawed hands sank and tore into the cushioned seat.  
  
  
"Don't worry." She kept her eyes on the road. Walkers   
appeared and stalked down the road. Searchlight beams sought   
them and bolts of blasterfire speared out whenever they were   
caught in the beams. A Walker stepped out onto the road in front   
of them, and several cars swerved and crashed. With blaster bolts   
following them from behind, Vergere drove right into the   
approaching Walker. Quick adjustments on the controls and the   
blaster bolts sprayed harmlessly around them.  
  
  
As the passed the Walker, Vergere took her lightsaber,   
stuck her arm out the window and switched on the blade. They   
passed close, the blade burned through the durasteel, and the   
Walker toppled and fell behind them.  
  
"We're almost there." She said as she pulled the lightsaber   
back and deactivated it. She had abandoned her earlier plan in   
favor of an idea she'd had seconds ago. She preferred to call it the   
guidance of the Force. They were driving with their lights off so to   
be less conspicuous, but the Imperials already knew their position   
and the sensors on a TIE fighter didn't need light.  
  
Bolts of energy strafed the road across them. "And they've   
called in the fighters." Vergere said grimly. Low flying craft sped   
overhead and rained bolts down on the street. Cars crashed and   
pedestrians fled in screaming panic as their capitol was   
transformed into a war zone.  
  
Then at last they came to their destination: the edge of the   
Inner Ring. Stormtroopers had control of the transports and stairs,   
but the hovercar flew past them, heading for the edge of the Ring   
itself.  
  
"What are you doing?" Oin screeched.  
  
"Trust me." The stormtroopers opened fire and scorch   
marks appeared in the rear of the vehicle, but it didn't matter.   
There was a waist high railing around the edge of the Ring, where   
citizens could look out across the fertile plains, or occasionally   
down at the less attractive Outer Ring. The hovercar plowed   
through the barrier and was plunging through midair. Vergere   
turned the repulsers to their maximum setting, but knew that   
wouldn't cushion the fall. It was merely to help her slow their   
decent.  
  
She closed her eyes, not seeing the things around her but   
the way the Force flowed between them. With the calm of a   
trained Jedi, she willed the energy to gather around the metal shell.   
If she could levitate small objects then she could do the same with   
the hovercar. Size matters not.  
  
And so they plunged toward the dubious safety of the Outer   
Ring.  
  
  
  
  



	6. Default Chapter Title

Chapter Five  
  
Standing beside Thrawn in the Grand Admiral's private   
chambers, Captain Parck swallowed and tried to calm the fear that   
fluttered in his stomach as he watched the viewscreens. Like most   
of his generation, the Imperial Captain had been raised on stories   
of the Jedi Knights, the invincible warrior-sorcerers of the Old   
Republic.  
  
Of course, that was before the Emperor took control and   
replaced superstition and ineffectual leadership with the rule of   
Order. The Ministers of Propaganda had long been disproving   
those old stories, revealing the Jedi as nothing more than   
charlatans and tricksters who used elaborate techno-illusions to   
overawe the weak and foolish. Parck had even come to believe all   
that (thankfully, he had never worked closely with Darth Vader   
and experienced the Sith lord's power firsthand), until now.  
  
"The reports are in from the Inner Ring," he began.  
  
"The Jedi evaded the search and escaped to the Outer   
Ring." Thrawn concluded for him. "The tone of your voice told   
me that much."  
  
"Yes, sir." Parck continued. "Early Reports and the images   
recorded from the broadcast suggest she has a companion, a   
reptilian of unknown species who aided her." He paused for a   
moment, giving Thrawn the chance to supply the species name, but   
the Grand Admiral merely waved for him to continue. He didn't   
know what race the reptile-being was either.  
  
"Apparently the reptile stole a hovercar from a Miashku   
citizen, which the Jedi drove over the edge of the Ring." Parck's   
mouth thinned. "Troops located the vehicle, abandoned, near one   
of the supporting pillars. Somehow it had survived the drop   
completely intact and was being looted by scavengers." Parck   
lowered his eyes. "I apologize, sir. I should have ordered more   
ground troops stationed in the Outer Ring. The Jedi wouldn't have   
gotten away-"  
  
  
"Not your fault, Captain." Thrawn waved the apology away   
and turned to his viewscreens, his eyes glowing coldly. "The   
Emperor was indeed careful in destroying all records of the Jedi.   
Unfortunately, this purge of information also meant Imperial   
forces would be unable to anticipate a Jedi's powers if they should   
encounter one. In any case, if anyone is at fault then it is me. I   
should have known there was the chance of encountering a Jedi in   
the Unknown Regions. Where else is there to hide from the   
Purges?"  
  
"We're most relieved the Jedi's attempt on your life failed."   
Parck put in. One of the screens showed recordings from the   
broadcast being played, then rewound and played again in a loop.  
  
"You think she was trying to assassinate me, Captain?"   
Thrawn said smoothly.  
  
  
"Of course that was her intent." Parck responded promptly,   
pointing to the split screen. "See, there she is preparing to throw   
her knife at you," he indicated one half of the screen, then the   
other, "and there one of our fleet troopers has seen her. He draws   
his blaster to stop her, she sees this and adjusts her aim to kill him   
instead, saving her own life." Parck nodded.  
  
"Your response shows the depth of your Imperial   
conditioning, Captain, not that of your intelligence and   
observation, which would otherwise be more than up to unraveling   
this." He touched the controls and the images moved in slow   
motion. "She may have killed him, but the 'loyal' fleet trooper was   
drawing his weapon before he could have possibly seen the   
Jedi. And he does not aim at her position." Parck's eyes widened   
as he tracked the path of the shot, which would have taken the   
Admiral's head off! "As for the Jedi, she does not make a move   
until she sees the trooper making his. Her aim is true, and hits   
what she intends to hit."  
  
"The Jedi saved your life." He said under his breath, half-  
afraid that Imperial Intelligence agents would appear out of the   
shadows and seize him for a traitor.  
  
"Yes, and after she has revealed herself and the threat to   
me is no more, what does she do? She surrenders, Captain. She   
only flees when this man fires on her. Onscreen, the Imperial   
shoved past and raised his blaster. Thrawn froze the image and   
enlarged the section of the man's face. Parck instinctively stepped   
back, the face was almost inhuman in its hate, like a half-rabid   
animal's. It must be some defect in the recording that made his   
bared teeth look like fangs. On another screen, Thrawn had   
enlarged the image of his would-be assassin and was studying it   
very carefully, particularly the strangely graceful way the man   
moved.  
  
"This is a very curious business, Captain. I would like very   
much to know why this Jedi acted as she did."  
  
"She wont get away." Parck promised. It may be difficult,   
the Outer Rings has many more spaceports than the Inner Ring,   
and they're highly disorganized, so finding the Jedi's ship will be   
difficult, but I?m ready to call in more Star Destroyers and   
blockade the entire planet if need be."  
  
"You can wipe that plan from your memory, Captain."   
Thrawn said in a glacial voice. "Imperial forces have already   
brought chaos to the capital mere minutes after entering the   
Empire, an act that was to usher in an age of peace and order. I   
still have the government leaders in my pocket, but we need to win   
the confidence of the people. Blockading the major trade center of   
this sector, an act that will cost countless billions, is not the way to   
do that."  
  
"Besides, I have an idea already about where the Jedi's   
vessel might be located."  
  
"Yes Admiral." Parck said. "I can't begin to express my   
shock that one of our own people would commit this kind of   
treachery. We've identified the dead man, and rest assured I will   
begin a full investigation into his past actions and associates.   
Whether he was motivated by an anti alien bias or if he was bought   
by Coerl, we'll soon learn the truth."  
  
  
"You can hold on the investigation." Thrawn said. "I   
already have a team of Intelligence agents backtracking his   
movements since we landed." He was looking at a list of starcraft   
that had recently arrived at the Outer Ring spaceports. It was a   
very long list. "And I have another plan for-" The com on his   
armrest beeped.  
  
"Thrawn here." He said into the speaker.  
  
"Sir," the voice of the bridge's comm officer, "we have a   
transmition from one of our shuttles at the Inner Ring spaceports."   
Transport shuttles had landed with orders to transport all Imperial   
personal in Inner Ring back to the Admonitor. "One of the   
Imperial Guardsmen arrived with the...remains...of the other and   
demanded that the shuttle lift off for the Admonitor   
immediately, before the shuttle is full to capacity as per your   
orders."  
  
"Yes, well tell the pilot to give the Guardsmen the comm   
and patch the transmition in here."  
  
"Aye sir." A few seconds later...  
  
"Grand Admiral." The Guardsman's voice was a cold rasp.  
  
"Yes," he leaned back in his chair, "so tell me, how did   
your Jedi hunting go? I'd have thought you would want to be   
trailing your quarry."  
  
"My fellow Guardsman is dead." There was a dangerous   
edge to his voice. "And I have no chance against a Jedi on my   
own. His Majesty commanded me to defend you, the Jedi may   
make another attempt on your life."  
  
"Yes," he steepled his fingers and smiled, "by all means the   
shuttle will launch for the Admonitor immediately. Thrawn   
out." He deactivated the comm. "Needless to say, Captain, you   
will keep silent regarding our findings. I would not like the   
reaction if the Emperor's watchdog discovered a Jedi saved my   
life." Parck nodded. "Good, now I have a mission for you and a   
few highly trusted troopers. You must be planetside before our   
Guardsman friend arrives, and it would be best if he had no   
knowledge of what you are about."  
  
*******************************  
The two other warriors met Hren Silra and Nom Anor and   
boarded one of the transport shuttles for the Admonitor. Both   
warriors were now disguised as Chiss troopers, their eyes glowed   
red with lumin dye, and two of the red bugs were concealed in   
each of their pockets for when the glow began to fade.  
  
They had turned the ruaswyrms on all the Vong creatures in   
their possessions. All the evidence that they had even been here   
were the ooglith cloakers they wore, the dye bugs and the   
ruaswyrms themselves, concealed in their pockets. Hren Silra   
himself had destroyed the villip that allowed them to communicate   
with Sang Anor after outlining his plan to the Executor and   
securing his approval to go forward.  
  
  
They had arrived on this planet in gel-lined corral pods   
dropped from low orbit, which had begun to decay soon after they   
hit ground. When their work was finished there would be no   
evidence of the Yuuzhan Vong presence on this planet.  
  
Nom Anor shivered, he felt sick being encased in this   
machine, and they were actually going to enter that cursed Star   
Destroyer. There would be nothing around him but a world of   
nonliving matter, unnaturally animated and offensive to the gods.   
Only the cold, pure purpose of their mission allowed him to   
voyage into the heart of that monster without flinching. The four   
of them gathered at the rear of the shuttle and listened as Hren   
Silra gave them their orders.  
  
"When we arrive, you two will head down to the medical   
area and find the body of our fallen warrior. Then use the   
ruaswyrms on him." He spoke in a low voice to avoid being   
overheard.  
  
The warriors gasped in shock. "But Master," one of them   
whispered, "to destroy his body, it would desecrate him and show   
dishonor to his family! It is our duty to recover his body and   
present it to the Executor!"  
  
"This mission is all important, warrior." Hren Silra   
overrode him. "Sacrifices will be made in the name of expediency.   
His family's elders, and the gods, will understand." The warriors   
would have protested further, but Hren Silra had been vested with   
the Executor's authority and they remained silent.  
  
"We will also plant the wyrms to facilitate our escape.   
While you deal with the body you and I," he indicated one of the   
'Chiss,' "will head up to the command bridge and deal with the   
Grand Admiral." A wicked smile appeared on his human face. "I   
wish I could see the Chiss' reaction when their beloved Syndic is   
slain by one of the Emperor's own Guardsmen. In less than a day   
the Chiss and humans will be at war and the Empire will have lost   
all it has gained here."  
  
*************************************  
Vergere and Oin had to take their time and avoid the   
Imperial patrols that were sweeping the Outer Ring, sometimes   
having to go far out of their way and fight off starving vermin and   
terrified gangs, but they eventually made it to the spaceport where   
their ship was berthed.  
  
The port was uncharacteristically quiet, Vergere had   
suspected there to be a mad scramble as the Imperials seized   
the ports but now things seemed under control. The port   
itself was almost deserted and her ship was in sight. She was   
thankful it hadn't been searched yet, but with so many vessels and   
no guarantee she even had a ship of her own and hadn't simply   
stown away on another vessel there was no way the Empire could   
search them all quickly.  
  
They moved around the ranks of berthed freighters and   
neared the ship. It wouldn't be long now. She would send the   
transmition as the ship lifted off. The freighter was lightly armed   
and not very maneuverable, but Vergere was a skilled pilot with   
more than a few tricks up her robe. She had a chance of getting   
past the TIE Fighters that would be sent after them, as long as they   
stayed away from the Star Destroyer and its tractor beams and   
turboblasters.  
  
Through the Force, the Jedi sensed the fear of the beings   
inside the ships and of the port authorities, their confusion and   
uncertainty. Their whole world had changed, they didn't know   
what the future held in store for them.  
  
"When we board," she whispered to Oin, "strap yourself in   
and stay quiet. It will take a few miracles for us to get clear of the   
planet and make the jump to hyperspace, and I hope the Force in   
the mood to indulge us."  
  
Apparently it wasn't.  
  
When they were halfway to the boarding ramp a dozen   
stormtroopers stepped out from around their ship and the ships   
behind them. They were surrounded, blocked from the front and   
flanked from behind, the focal point of a dozen blaster barrels. It   
must have been the emotions emanating from the ships around   
them that had masked their presence in the Force. Instantly   
Vergere's lightsaber came to life in her hands and Oin tried to   
point his blaster in every direction at once. Vergere stood ready to   
deflect their fire and charge any weak spot in the ranks.  
  
They didn't open fire, only stood there, white armor shining   
in the spaceport's lights.  
  
"That wont be necessary." A man in a captain's uniform   
walked around the berth and stood between them and the ramp.   
He was tall and his black hair was going grey, but he was still trim   
and fit. "I am Captain Voss Parck of the Star Destroyer   
Admonitor, and I bring a message from Grand Admiral   
Thrawn." His hands were clasped behind his back and his voice   
was calm and controlled, but Vergere sensed fear just under the   
surface.  
  
"I'm all ears." She responded dryly. "You seem to have a   
captive audience."  
  
"Yes, the Grand Admiral wishes to speak with you onboard   
his flagship. You are to accompany us there. In return you will   
both be given safe passage out of this system afterward."  
  
"And if I decline?" She asked coldly.  
  
"The Admiral doubts you will do so, as you seemed   
interested in preserving him and speaking with him before." Parck   
smiled.  
  
"My companion stays here, aboard my ship."  
  
"You are not in a position to negotiate. The Admiral   
wishes to see you both."  
  
"Perhaps I should fight now rather than be shot in the back   
later."  
  
"Grand Admiral Thrawn is a man of honor," Parck's eyes   
flashed angrily, "he has given his word that you will not be harmed   
and will be allowed to leave in peace, and his word can be trusted."   
The honesty in Parck convinced her. She switched off her   
lightsaber and hooked in to her belt.  
  
"Put the blaster away." She said to a reluctant Oin. "Very   
well then," to Parck, "we accept."  
  
*************************************  
Drash Tevock stalked down the corridors of the   
Admonitor. He had spent a few hours in one of the ships   
workout areas trying vainly to sweat out his angst. It was that   
blasted fight, not much more than a scuffle, but since then his   
name hadn't been on any of the rosters.  
  
He kept away from the windows and the beautiful, clean   
void beyond the ship. The sight would only torment him, seeing   
space without being able to fly through it, without being stripped   
away of all the illusions that so many had, the little, unimportant   
things that seemed so momentous. Then there was only the   
pure focus remaining as he became the sharp edge of the knife.   
Closer to the truth than any other. Blast it he had to get out there!  
  
With a sigh he turned back to the training rooms. He was   
required to spend some time in the flight simulator and he had best   
get it over with quickly. He hated those things, they only mocked   
what he experienced in real piloting.  
  
Drash had just turned a corner when he saw something odd.   
Very odd. Two fleet troopers walked past him, one human and   
one Chiss. The Chiss he didn't know, but the human was crewman   
named Estra, probably the worst human supremacist Drash   
knew.  
  
He turned back, mildly curious. His first thought was that   
He'd made a mistake. No, there was Estra Vran, a man who   
Wouldn't even eat at the same table as an alien, standing to the side   
of a corridor talking softly with a Chiss.  
  
If Drash was curious before he was burning up inside now.   
He didn't bother thinking about what he would do next, he simply   
followed his instincts. He stepped around the corner and put on a   
wide, open smile. He walked quickly towards them and called in a   
hearty voice no one who had spent more than a few minutes with   
Drash would ever recognize as his.  
  
"Estra you Huttling!" He laughed and opened his arms,   
clapped his hands and rubbed them vigorously together. He closed   
the distance between them in a few steps. The two had stopped   
talking and turned as one to look at him. They looked like a pair   
of startled wildcats.  
  
"When did they transfer you here anyway? Last I heard you   
were on the Incinerator. They finally got tired of you stinking   
up their ship and sent you upstairs to offend the Admiral, eh?" He   
clapped his hand on Estra's shoulder and felt the other tense, ready   
to throw the hand off. Then Estra, one of the handful of humans in   
the fleet who still despised Admiral Thrawn for his race, looked at   
the Chiss beside him. A brief glance, and the Chiss nodded   
slightly.  
  
"It's good to see you too, friend." Estra smiled, and Drash   
noticed he seemed taller than he'd been yesterday. "Yes, I  
transferred here just a few days ago, from the Incinerator.  
Estra had been serving aboard the Admonitor for over a month, and  
the Incinerator wasn't even a part of Unity Fleet. "I'd like to  
stick around and catch up on old times, but Zaen and I-"  
  
"We have duties to attend to." The Chiss supplied. The   
melodious accent seemed to be lacking something, though, as did   
the glowing eyes.  
  
"Right, of course." Drash smiled. Come and see me on   
your off hours, we'll start up a slingball game." They began   
moving away, soon they were out of sight around another bend.   
The friendly smile vanished from Drash's face. Replaced by an   
expression of cold speculation.  
  
*************************************  
"That was a close thing." Nom Anor muttered to his Chiss-  
disguised companion. "I almost thought we'd have to kill that   
fool."  
  
"The gods favor us, it seems." The other led the way   
through the vile machine-ship. "Let us pray we do not run into   
anyone else." They had already planted most of their ruaswyrms   
and had just enough left to deal with their fallen warrior's body. A   
quick trip to the shuttle bay afterwards and that would be the end   
to their time here. Nom Anor smiled under his human skin. His   
father would be pleased with him for this.  
  
*************************************  
"I must ask you to turn over your weapons." Captain Parck   
held out his hands as they boarded the Lambda class shuttle.  
  
"Not going to happen." Vergere strode past him and took   
her seat. Oin did likewise. Parck shrugged and signaled the pilot   
to close the ramp. To her mild surprise, there were no   
stormtroopers onboard. They and Parck were to only passengers,   
and the Captain took his seat beside them. He was holding a   
datacard that had been handed to him as they had boarded the   
Imperial shuttle.  
  
The shuttle was meant for the personal conveyance of   
Moffs, Admirals and other VIPs, the interior was plush and   
luxurious and the liftoff was so smooth they had to look out the   
window to make sure they'd left the ground. They saw the side   
wings fold down as the shuttle lifted and pointed its nose skyward.   
Oin alternately watched the receding ground and approaching   
stars with interest. Vergere had other things on her mind.  
  
"What's that?" She asked Parck, meaning the datacard that   
had been handed to him as they had neared the shuttle.  
  
"A report by Intelligence agents on the actions of the man   
who attempted to assassinate the Grand Admiral." He said. "The   
man you killed."  
  
"Tell me more." Vergere said smoothly.  
  
"This is classified data."  
  
  
"Just a few questions, like where he went and who he was   
seen with. A few questions will hardly bring down the Empire,   
will they?" She nudged him with the Force, tried to lower his   
defenses and relax his guard. "I have information about who this   
man was working for, and who his associates might be."  
  
"He was last seen in the company of four other human fleet   
troopers in the Outer Ring." Parck said softly, a vacant expression   
on his face. "A Chiss saw them entering an abandoned   
slaughterhouse in the company of an unidentified human. He   
recognized two: the shooter and a Lt. Stev Rollis. We are looking   
for him for questioning."  
  
"You wont find him." Vergere said. Five, that meant at   
least four were left. "Rollis and the others are dead. They died   
when they entered that slaughterhouse."  
  
"What?" Parck raised his eyebrows, alert again.  
  
"An autopsy of the shooter will show that he isn't who you   
think. He's not even human. Agents took their places to get close   
to the Grand Admiral. They took human guise to break up the   
alliance with the Chiss, I suspect."  
  
"But I've never heard of an alien that could mimic in that   
way!" Parck gasped. "Who is behind this? Coerl? Some other   
Warlord?"  
  
Vergere only shook her head. "Probably the most   
dangerous warlord in the galaxy. And the least known. It's a long   
story and I'll save it for the Admiral." The Admonitor filled up   
the window. There was no hurry, the other Yuuzhan Vong were probably  
hiding out or on their way back to Sevac III by now.  
  
*************************************  
In the medicenter's sterile lab, an Imperial doctor looked   
down at the table where the dead man lay. Naked and with a   
vibroblade handle projecting from his throat. "Sorry about this,"   
she said to herself as she laid out the instruments, "but the Admiral   
wants an autopsy."  
  
"Query, might I ask your meaning?" The medical droid   
assisting her asked.  
  
"Never mind. Begin recording." She looked at the datapad   
and compared. "Subject is a human male, 28 years old. From   
Coruscant-Kuat stock. Stands 5 foot 6 inches tall-"  
  
"Incorrect." The droid put in. "Subject is 5 foot, 9 inches."  
  
"Hmmm?" She took out a measure. "So he is." She   
shrugged, that was bureaucrats for you, they got nothing right.   
"Odd, the file clearly says green eyes, his are brown." She pulled   
the blade out and set it in a tray for later examination. "Beginning   
incision." She activated a laser scalpel and brought it close to the   
cadaver's skin, but before she could make the first cut the skin   
bunched and pulled away from her.  
  
  
The doctor jerked back and pulled off her face mask.   
"Emperor's black heart!" Her eyes widened. "Delete that last   
sentence." She ordered the droid. "He seems to have some kind of   
reaction in the epidermal layers." To say the least! The man's skin   
was...sagging, pulling away from his body. Experimentally, she   
held the scalpel against the skin. It pulled back, afraid of pain.   
This thing isn't human! She thought.  
  
"Touch him not with your machines!" The command was a   
vicious snarl. The doctor spun around and saw two beings in the   
doorway.  
  
"Unauthorized entry." The droid warned. The human and   
Chiss didn't care about that. If anything, they were furious at the   
droid speaking to them. The doctor instinctively stepped back,   
half-raising her scalpel. It did not good: she was dead before she   
hit the floor.  
  
While Nom Anor tore off the droid's head and ripped out   
Its wiring, the other warrior sprinkled ruaswryms in the corpse's   
mouth. "Come on." He led the way out. It would take time for the   
body and ooglith masquer to completely dissolve: they had few of   
the worms left after planting them around the ship, and they were   
all sterile. It would happen, though, and the only thing anyone   
would find would be a puddle of acid and a few dead worms. Not   
as neat as Hren Silra would've liked, but good enough.  
  
They entered the main area of the medicenter, empty. Nom   
Anor looked around casually, and suddenly pushed the other   
warrior just as a blaster bolt would've burned through his head.  
  
Drash fired again. He had gotten a look at the inside of the   
lab as the two had left, and the dead doctor on the floor told him   
all he needed to know. They had taken cover, whoever they were,   
one behind a metal. table, the other behind a storage locker. They   
moved like wild animals, but he had them pinned down. He   
moved to the alarm. This should help make up for his earlier bad   
behavior and get him in a TIE's cockpit all the sooner.  
  
From their respective positions, the two Yuuzhan Vong   
glanced at one another, an entire conversation passed in less than a   
second. The 'Chiss' warrior picked up a table and threw it across   
the room. Drash threw himself against the wall to avoid the crush.   
The two were up and bounding at him, the Chiss in the lead.  
  
Drash shot at him, winged him, then the Yuuzhan Vong   
was knocking the blaster out of his hand, the other taloned hand   
shot out to shred his face. Drash was fast too, though. He dodged   
the claws, stepped forward and landed a punch in the Chiss'   
midsection, helped by the forward momentum of the warrior as he   
leapt into the punch, knocking the wind out of him.  
  
Drash followed with an uppercut to the jaw, then swept the   
Warrior's legs out from under him and ran for the alarm. Nom   
Anor was ready for him, however, and clipped Drash on the   
temple, knocking him out. He drew back his hand to tear the   
Imperial's throat out, but the other warrior quickly bounded up and   
grabbed his wrist, stopping him.  
  
  
"No," he gasped, "this one has spirit. It is a dishonor to kill   
a worthy fighter this way." Quickly, they put him on a bed and set   
the table upright. With luck, nothing would look suspicious.  
  
*************************************  
Hren Silra and his companion were near the command   
bridge, almost to the Grand Admiral's chambers.  
  
"Lt. Rollis." They both turned to see a man with   
Commander's bars on his chest standing at the far end of the hall   
behind them. "We've been looking for you. You're to report for a   
debriefing."  
  
"I'm sorry Commander," Hren Silra said smoothly, "but I   
have been ordered to report to the Grand Admiral."  
  
"For what reason?"  
  
"I was not told." He shrugged slightly. "The Lt. here is   
escorting me there."  
  
The Commander's mouth tightened. "I'll see you afterward   
then." The lights blinked above them. The wyrms were doing   
their work. They would not eat metal, but they devoured the   
insulation of the ship's wiring greedily. The acid would do the   
rest. "What's the matter with this ship?" The Commander   
muttered as he left.  
  
Hren Silra motioned his subordinate to follow and they   
were soon at the corridor leading the Grand Admiral's chambers.   
A single Royal Guardsman stood on one side. The two Vong glanced   
at one another and back at the Guard. He stood in front of the door   
now.  
  
"I've been ordered to report to the Grand Admiral." Hren   
Silra said. The Guardsman remained silent, force pike held   
diagonally across his chest. He moved his hand to his face mask,   
most likely to a built-in comm link to talk to Thrawn. The two   
Yuuzhan Vong attacked without a signal, without being betrayed   
by the tensing of a single muscle.  
  
One didn't get to be a Royal Guardsman by being a fool.   
The Imperial reacted instantly. A few seconds of flashing claws   
and fangs, of whirling force pike and billowing red cloak, and the   
Royal Guardsman was on the floor with a broken neck. Hren   
Silra's companion was dead also, with a force pike buried in his   
gut.  
  
Hren Silra leaned against the wall, breathing hard. He had   
underestimated the Royal Guardsmen. A lucky thing one of them   
had died planetside. A few seconds later he had composed himself   
and pulled the bodies to one side, where they would not be   
immediatly visible.  
  
  
On the way out he would dress in the Guardsman's robes   
and leave his pike in the Grand Admiral's body. It would be   
obvious to all that the Red Guard had killed him at the Emperor's   
command. The Guard himself Hren Silra would dress in his own   
Lt. uniform and leave him somewhere. That left only the body of   
his companion. He would work that out later, he said to himself as   
he entered the chambers.  
  
The door slid shut behind him and Hren Silra's eyes   
instantly adjusted to the dim room. He looked past the holograms-  
abdominous machine things-to the command chair.  
  
"Yes," a melodious voice from the chair, "what is it?"  
  
"Lt. Rollis here, sir." He put the proper submissiveness in   
his tone. "I've received a report from planetside. I was   
commanded to put it in your hand alone." He held up a blank   
datacard. "I believe it is in regards to the Jedi terrorist." He kept   
walking toward the chair. He only needed to distract the Chiss   
long enough to get within range...  
  
The chair swiveled to face him. Thrawn regarded the man   
with glowing eyes that seemed to weigh and measure. "Ordered by   
whom, Lt.?" He asked.  
  
"By the Captain, sir." He answered, hesitating only a   
heartbeat before answering. A few more steps... Thrawn's eyes   
narrowed and a blaster appeared in his hand.  
  
"Stay where you are."  
  
"Admiral?" Hren Silra asked innocently.  
  
"Amazing." The blaster was level with his head. "You   
really are the image of Lt. Rollis. I am most interested in how you   
do it."  
  
"The Admiral is most perceptive." Hren Silra's eyes and   
voice changed, filled with cold menace. The datacard broke in his   
clenched hand.  
  
"I have the rare ability to see what is right in front of my   
face." Thrawn said easily, his blaster never wavering. "After the   
attack planetside I surmised that imposters had somehow taken the   
place of my crewmen to infiltrate my ship. I also concluded yours   
is a tenacious race and would certainly make another attempt on   
my life. I welcomed this. I saw an opportunity to uncover your   
plans and find out who sent you."  
  
"You set a trap with yourself as bait." Hren Silra felt a   
reluctant respect for his adversary.  
  
"Yes, I was unable to notify the crew, as I didn't know how   
far my ship had been penetrated and I could not risk alerting you   
until I have my quarry. Of course, I will soon have all the answers   
I need. How did you get by the Guardsman, by the way? I warned   
him to be on his guard after I tested him to make certain he was   
who claimed."  
  
"He is dead."  
  
  
Thrawn raised his eyebrows. "It seems I'll have to look   
into a better class of bodyguards. At any rate, I can now turn you   
over to proper handlers. He reached for the comm on his armrest,   
and Hren Silra moved, launched himself at Thrawn without   
warning. A blaster bolt burned through the empty space he'd   
occupied seconds before.  
  
Thrawn was out of his chair and rolling on the floor just   
before the Yuuzhan Vong landed. The Chiss came up in a   
kneeling position, weapon arced to point at the warrior. Hren Silra   
wasted no time but stabbed his coufee into the comm and pulled it   
free in a shower of sparks and tangle of wires. He sidestepped,   
swivelled Thrawn's chair and ducked behind it. Blaster bolts deflected   
off the chair back.  
  
"You wont get any help, machine slave!"  
  
"I have all the help I need." Thrawn darted forward and   
slapped a button on one of his consoles. The arrangement of   
holograms changed, now primitive tribal art of various worlds   
decorated the room. Feathered masks and painted shields adorned   
the walls and beast-totem sculpture stood on the floor. Thrawn   
moved, ducked behind a woven rug on a weaving stand. He kept   
his weapon trained on the chair and shot as Hren Silra lept from   
his cover.  
  
He landed, crouched to avoid the shots that burned through   
the holograms, creating ripples in the light, and quickly lost   
himself in the artwork. He had just gotten an idea of the Admiral's   
position relative to his when the artwork changed. Now he was   
surrounded by arrangements of crystal statuary and abstracts.   
Translucent and glowing with their own inner light. More   
importantly, Hren Silra's cover had disappeared and only luck and   
training kept him from being killed by the volley of bolts Thrawn   
sent his way. He took a nasty burn in the leg, though.  
  
He clenched his teeth, embraced the pain and tried to make   
for the Admiral's position even as the art changed again.  
  
*************************************  
The shuttle glided into the landing bay and set down a little   
apart from the rest of the transport shuttles busy removing the   
Imperials from the planet and the rows of TIE fighters. Parck led   
the way down the ramp, followed closely by the robed and hooded   
Jedi.  
  
"There is a conference room adjoining the landing bay,   
used for last minute briefings. We will wait for the Admiral   
there." Oin stayed behind in the shuttle with the pilot, watching   
the ships, the crew and technitions, and the droids that scrambled   
around them.  
  
"It's best you both stay out of sight." Parck explained.   
"The Grand Admiral can't have it known he's meeting with a Jedi.   
Not with a Royal Guardsman onboard. Have a seat." He pointed   
to one of the chairs around the conference table and reached for   
the comm console, but the lights dimmed and the screen turned   
blank.  
  
  
Parck bit back a curse and raised his comm link. "Have to   
get some techs in here to look at this console." He said as he   
adjusted the frequency. "Admiral, this is Captain Parck." He   
frowned and readjusted the link. "Commander Veenir," he said his   
first officers name. "This is Captain Parck."  
  
"Veenir here sir." From the comm link.  
  
"Commander, I can't get through to the Admiral, I need you   
to take a message to him."  
  
"Of course, sir. His interview must be over by now."   
Interview? It must be something important, Thrawn would want   
nothing to delay this.  
  
"Who is he talking to?"  
  
"A Lt. Rollis." Parck felt his blood drain from his face. His   
gaze snapped to Vergere, whose own eyes were wide with alarm.  
  
"Commander, get a squad of stormtroopers to the Admiral's   
chambers, now!"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"The Admiral's life is in danger! Do it!" He cut off the   
link. "Stay here!" He ordered as he ran out the door.  
  
*************************************  
When this was over, and his claws sunk deep into Thrawn's   
belly, he would take those glowing eyes and give them to his favorite  
wife as earbobs. So Hren Silra promised himself. He cursed the infidel   
Chiss as he moved around the artwork, trying to get within reach   
of him before the Admiral could get to the door and rescue. The   
problem was this blasted artwork changed every ten seconds and   
only Thrawn knew the pattern.  
  
The two circled each other in the vast room, the Vong   
moved without a sound and Thrawn was amazingly soft-footed in   
those boots of his. Hren Silra tried to determine where the   
Admiral was by scent, but the smell of Chiss was all over the   
room. He couldn't pinpoint him.  
  
He knew he was getting close, though. He could feel it.   
And Thrawn didn't dare use his blaster heedlessly: he would give   
away his position and the weapon was getting low on energy.   
They both stayed behind the holograms, to simply walk through   
them would risk being seen.  
  
The artwork was now an offensively mechanistic design.   
Orderly, geometric shapes, curves running into spirals running into   
sharp edges. The geometric designs of a dozen cultures combined   
into a vast mechanical thing whose function could not be guessed.  
  
Hren Silra was trying to get in front of the door. He was   
certain that was Thrawn's goal. He searched the shifting artwork,   
a glimpse of white, two glowing eyes, that was all he needed.  
  
  
There! A flash of white! Without a second's hesitation   
Hren Silra bolted. He burst through holograms, a blaster bolt   
blazed over his shoulder and a second later he had torn the weapon   
from Thrawn's hands. The Imperial's eyes blazed and he pulled a   
vibroblade from his sleeve and took a fell into a fighting stance.  
  
"You use machines to fight your battles." He hissed at   
Thrawn. "This makes you weak and damns you in the eyes of the   
gods. But you are a worthy foe despite all that." He smiled. "You   
will make a fine sacrifice." He dropped his coufee and unsheathed   
his claws.  
  
"I use whatever weapon I have." Thrawn spoke in a level   
voice and lifted his blade in challenge. Hren Silra charged,   
knocked over Thrawn and bore him to the floor. His claws tore   
into the white uniform.  
  
The doors slid open and a squad of stormtroopers entered,   
led by the commander Hren Silra had met earlier. Blaster rifles   
were leveled, but the troops couldn't see clearly for the holograms.  
  
"Admiral!" The commander yelled. "Are you all right?"   
His question was answered when the holograms shifted again and   
they saw for themselves. Hren Silra reared back from Thrawn's   
supine form, shreds of white in his claws and a vibroblade in his   
stomach. An eyeblink later a dozen blaster bolts struck him. The   
Yuuzhan Vong warrior was thrown off Thrawn by the force of the   
blasts and lay dead on the floor.  
  
Captain Parck ran down the corridor, shoved past the   
stormtroopers and half knelt, half collapsed, at the Admiral's side.  
  
"Sir!" He yelled. "Talk to me, are you all right?"  
  
"Perfectly fine, Captain." Thrawn sat up and brushed   
himself off. "No need to shout." Parck nearly gagged, seeing the   
rips in the Admiral's tunic. Only then seeing the body armor   
beneath. "Yes, I thought it wise to keep this on. I do congratulate   
you on your timing, though. A few seconds later and my friend   
there would have had me."  
  
"Thank the Jedi, sir." Parck stammered as he took   
Thrawn's arm and helped him stand. Stormtroopers surrounded   
Hren Silra's body. "She was the one who warned me of 'Lt. Rollis'   
there."  
  
"Indeed." Thrawn's lips tightened slightly. "It seems I owe   
her my life yet again. Have the bodies brought to the medicenter   
and-"  
  
All the holograms shorted out and the lights blinked, then   
dimmed.  
  
*************************************  
Nom Anor pointed to the Lambda class shuttle. "That one.   
It is small and will be easily handled." It was also a transport for   
high-level Imperials. What else would a Royal Guardsman who   
has just assassinated a Grand Admiral use for his escape?  
  
  
That was Hren Silra's analysis, anyway. The two Yuuzhan   
Vong crossed the hanger bay unnoticed, though the droids and   
tools of the techs made them both tremble in anger. They would   
prepare the ship, wait for the other two warriors and make their   
escape before anyone knew what was happening.  
  
Oin was in the back of the shuttle, feeling the strange   
carpeting with his feet when he caught the scent. His long neck   
twisted around and he ducked behind a seat as the two figures   
walked up the ramp and entered the shuttle.  
  
He clutched his blaster in trembling hands and crouched   
behind the chair. He would know them no matter what skins they   
wore, by their stench and by the way they moved they were   
Yuuzhan Vong! The one in the guise of a Chiss knocked on the   
door to the cockpit. It slid open and the pilot walked out.  
  
"Yes, is everything alright back-" His eyes widened. "Who   
are you? What's this ab-ow!" He gagged as the Chiss slammed the   
heel of his hand into his face, shoving him back into the cockpit.   
The 'Chiss' followed and the stench of fear and blood filled Oin's   
nostrils.  
  
"I'll ready the ship." The Vong called back in his own tongue,   
which Oin understood. "You go outside and watch for Hren Silra."   
The human-Vong nodded and stood at the rampway.  
  
Oin swallowed nervously and held his blaster like a   
lifeline. He had to get out of here, he had to warn Vergere! The   
Yuuzhan Vong stood framed in the hatchway, tapping his fingers   
on the wall. Oin held his weapon in steady hands. Killing was   
anathema to the Nesz, but he carried the future of the Nesz with   
him. He took a deep breath and got ready, but found it wasn't   
necessary to shoot. The Vong was gone.  
  
Oin peeked around the back of the chair. He was nowhere   
in sight. Carefully, in case the one in the cockpit should hear, he   
crept around the seat and slowly made for the hatch. He was   
almost at the threshold when the human-Vong stepped around the   
side and grabbed him by the throat.  
  
"Well! I thought I'd smelled something foul-" Nom Anor   
frowned, eyes narrowing. He didn't know the name of the race   
they had enslaved on Sevac III, but he knew a Nesz by sight.   
"What is this?" He said as he walked in the shuttle. Oin kicked   
and struggled furiously in Nom Anor's grip. The Vong swatted the   
blaster out of Oin's hand and kicked it across the shuttle, but the   
Nesz struck him with his bare claws, slashed at his eyes.  
  
Nom Anor jerked his head back just in time to keep from   
losing an eye, but not before the reptile's claws raked one cheek,   
shredding the ooglith masquer. The living skin writhed and pulled   
away from Nom Anor's face and head.  
  
For a second, the shock had paralyzed Nom Anor. Not   
because of the pain, which he didn't even notice, but at the sight of   
the Nesz and what its being here meant.  
  
  
The Jedi.  
  
The blasted Jedi.  
  
Gods damn her!  
  
"So," Nom Anor hissed as his own claws sprouted from the   
masquer, he shook his hair free, "you slaves have some fire in your   
blood after all. Or was it the Jedi? Did she give you your spine?"   
He held his arm straight so Oin was unable to reach him, then   
heaved the Nesz up so his feet left the ground and he was at eye-  
level with the Yuuzhan Vong. Oin clutched Nom Anor's wrist, but   
couldn't break the hold.  
  
"You vermin were hiding her, weren't you?" He snarled,   
rage built inside him until he thought his blood would boil. "She   
was right under our noses, lurking around our seed world."  
  
"Your seed world?" Oin gagged. "No, our planet, our   
home! You have no right there! No business there! Vergere   
has found allies who will free my people and drive you from our   
world forever!"  
  
Nom Anor shook the Nesz until Oin's teeth rattled. "You   
are a fool. Where is the Jedi? Tell me!" Oin glared and remained   
silent. Nom Anor flexed his claws.  
  
"What goes on?" The other Yuuzhan Vong stood in the   
cockpit door.  
  
"The Jedi is here!" Nom Anor spat. "And she was on the   
seed world." He held up Oin as evidence. "Is the ship ready for   
takeoff?" The other nodded. "Good, I'll close the hatch."  
  
"But Hren Silra-"  
  
"Isn't coming back." He turned, still holding the struggling   
Nesz easily. "The Jedi warned Thrawn. Hren Silra walked into his   
death. Right now she is probably telling them all about our seed   
world. The mission has failed and we must inform the Executor.   
And you," he tightened his grip until he was a hair from snapping   
Oin's neck, "you I will break in half and toss your body out to rot   
on this vile machine-ship!" He reached the hatch when he heard   
the telltale snap-hiss of a lightsaber. Oin and Nom Anor looked   
down and saw a small, slight figure in a brown robe standing at the   
foot of the ramp. A lightsaber burned in her hands.  
  
*************************************  
"Nom Anor." Vergere spoke in a level voice. His ooglith   
masquer was injured and had pulled back to reveal his true face.   
The Yuuzhan Vong had changed little in the past three years. A   
few more scars, perhaps, but his face still had the uninjured   
symmetry of a Vong youth. Shoulder length black hair framed a   
young but hardened face, he had his mother's eyes and they burned   
with hate. She had sensed Oin in danger and hurried back to the   
shuttle, now it appeared she was too late.  
  
  
"Jedi." He had a coufee in one hand and Oin's neck in the   
other. He looked ready to leap down the ramp, shielding himself   
from her lightsaber with Oin's body, and tear her apart.  
  
"Your mission here has failed. Thrawn knows everything."   
Or he would soon. She had left her datacard in the conference   
room for him to find.  
  
"So I thought." He ground out. "But there is still a measure   
of vengeance I can take-"  
  
"Nom Anor!" Another Vong voice from inside. "Close the   
hatch, we have to take off!"  
  
"But-" he glanced back.  
  
"Do it! Now!"  
  
"Let him go!" Vergere pointed her lightsaber at Oin. "He   
is no warrior, it would do you no good to kill him!"  
  
"But it would hurt you." Nom Anor's eyes flashed, he   
squeezed his hand and Oin gagged, but then a new expression   
appeared on his face. The hot rage seemed to drain away and   
something colder and infinitely worse took its place. A smile of   
pure malice twisted his lips.  
  
"Slave," he snarled at Oin, "you are indeed a fool. You   
think this Jedi is here to help you? Look around! See what kind of   
people the Imperials are! They will come to your world, but no to   
free you, to destroy us!" He pulled his arm in until Oin's snout   
was inches away from his face.  
  
"Do you understand? They will lay waste to your world to   
destroy us, and wipe out your people as well. They wont care.   
Your race is doomed! Enslaved or destroyed, that is your only   
destiny. Your Jedi knew it. That was her purpose all along!" He   
turned his face to Vergere. "Tell him." He commanded. "Tell him   
or he dies!"  
  
Vergere swallowed, feeling like her heart was being   
crushed. "It's true, Oin. It's all true."  
  
"Nom Anor's glittering eyes bored into Oin's. "Live with   
that, slave." He hissed, drew back his arm and threw the Nesz   
down the ramp. Vergere deactivated her lightsaber and caught Oin   
with the Force. She lowered him to the floor as Nom Anor hit the   
button that closed the hatch and raised the ramp. Oin shook her   
off and tried to run up the ramp before it closed.  
  
"No!" Vergere pulled him back, held him as the hatch   
sealed and the shuttle rose from its pad, thinking he meant to   
attack Nom Anor.  
  
  
What she didn't see, what Oin had only just noticed, was   
that his bandolier was no longer with him. It must have been cut   
off when Nom Anor had held him in his clawed hand, and Oin had   
seen it, the only hope of the Nesz, coiled unnoticed on the floor at   
Nom Anor's feet as he had thrown Oin down the ramp.  
  
The shuttle unfolded its wings and sped for the space   
beyond the energy field.  
  
"What's this?" The deck officer yelled. "No one got   
clearance to launch that shuttle!" The ship soared over the docked   
transports and nearly crashed into a docking ship before it passed   
through the energy barrier. Vergere lifted the officer's comm link   
while he was occupied and adjusted it to Captain Parck's   
frequency.  
  
"A Lambda shuttle has just left the ship, you have to stop it   
at all costs!" Unfortunately the acids of the ruaswyrms had already   
done their work. The tractor beams, turboblasters and sensors   
were malfunctioning. TIE fighters were sent after the shuttle, but   
one of the features of this particular ship was shields that were   
three times as strong as a normal Lambda class vessel. None of   
the pursuing fighters were TIE Advanced and equipped with   
missiles, so Vergere could only watch helplessly as the shuttle   
escaped into hyperspace.  
  
*************************************  
Nom Anor paced the passenger compartment of the shuttle,   
his mood shifting from malicious triumph to bitter fury as he   
realized how petty and meaningless was the hurt he gave the Jedi,   
then frustration: he couldn't destroy the machine around him   
without risking both their lives. He had stripped the injured   
ooglith cloaker from his body and tossed it against the hatch.   
Naked, he contented himself with ripping the cushioned seats apart   
and disemboweling the dead pilot with his bare hands.  
  
He looked down as he felt his foot snag on something.   
Frowning, he picked up the bandolier the slave had worn. It was   
made of organic matter, not living, of course, but at least it showed   
the slaves weren't completely abandoned by the gods.  
  
As he examined the thing he noticed a large pocket stitched   
into the inner side. Curious, he tore it open with a swipe of his   
claws. The contents spilled out into his hand and onto the floor.   
Nom Anor found himself staring at a pile of seeds.  
  
*************************************  
"Quite an interesting story." Thrawn paced the length of   
the conference room before returning his glowing gaze to its only   
other occupant. "But tell me, how do you know so much of these   
Yuuzhan Vong? And if you don't mind my asking, how did you   
survive the Emperor?s Purges?"  
  
Vergere crossed her arms. "I survived the Purges, Admiral,   
because I never saw them. Shortly after Palpatine was made   
Supreme Chancellor I was sent on a mission to a planet in the  
Tingle Arm, at the edge of the known galaxy. It was near there  
that the worldship Long Reach of Death first penetrated this  
galaxy. They attacked the planet and would have annihilated  
the life there, but I struck a bargain with the Executor, Sang Anor's predecessor: I would go with them and allow myself to be studied,  
they have no knowledge of the Force or Force-users. In exchange  
they would leave the planet in peace."  
  
"I am intrigued. I would hear more of this first contact.   
Perhaps I could speak to the inhabitants of this planet."  
  
"I doubt you'll be able to." Vergere smiled to herself. "But   
that has no bearing on the events now unfolding. I spent nearly   
thirty years with the Yuuzhan Vong, learning their ways and their   
capabilities. Three years ago I escaped. I have followed in their   
wake ever since, looking for a way to stop them."  
  
"I would have thought a Jedi would be fighting for the   
Rebellion, not hiding out in the backwaters of the galaxy." Thrawn   
gave a self-depreciating smile. These 'backwaters' were his home,   
after all.  
  
"The war against the Empire is not my fight, Admiral."   
Vergere shook her head, her feathers seemed to bristle. "I sought   
guidance in the Force and saw my destiny was on a different path.   
The Yuuzhan Vong are a potential threat greater than your Empire   
could ever be. Palpatine takes away beings' freedom, but the Vong   
jihad would take away their connection to the Force. I saw their   
work on Sevac III, they are destroying that world's ecosystem and   
replacing it with their own. That is how they spread, Thrawn.   
They change a planet and the people on it so completely that it is   
theirs forever."  
  
Thrawn narrowed his eyes in concentration. Vergere had   
declined Thrawn's offer of a chair, and though the Jedi was a head   
shorter than the Grand Admiral the calm dignity with which she   
carried herself made him seem his equal in stature. "It seems I will   
be moving against Coerl sooner than I had anticipated. The Sevac   
system is in his territory and the threat that world poses is grave   
indeed." He tapped the datapad on the conference table. "If the   
data you have compiled is accurate, we could be facing a small   
fleet in a matter of weeks."  
  
"A small fleet, and the nucleus of an even bigger fleet to   
come. Sang Anor has apparently decided to begin the conquest of   
this galaxy now, with the main Vong force still more than twenty   
years from reaching the Outer Rim."  
  
"You said there are only a few thousand Yuuzhan Vong   
actually in this galaxy. Does the Executor truly have the strength   
to challenge the Empire?"  
  
"Not now, no. But if he is given enough time, builds up a   
strong power base in the Unknown Regions, then I would give him   
a fair chance."  
  
"We may have need of the Emperor's new toy yet."   
Thrawn said as if to himself. Vergere wanted to know what he   
meant by that, but he quickly changed the subject. As she had   
been living in the Unknown Regions so long, she had little   
knowledge of the goings on in the rest of the galaxy. She knew   
there was a Rebellion underway, but she had never heard of the   
Death Star, and while she had sensed Alderaan's death years ago   
she had never connected the deaths of millions with a man-made   
weapon.  
  
  
"Sevac III will have to be dealt with, yes." She said. "But   
the seed world isn't the main threat." Now she began to pace. "The   
worldship Long Reach of Death is what must be destroyed, at   
all costs. As long as that worldship lives the Yuuzhan Vong can   
do to any other planet what they did to Oin's homeworld. That   
vessel is the only thing capable of seeding and starting such a   
process, if it's destroyed then the Yuuzhan Vong here will be cut   
off from the means to create their organic technology. They'll   
hardly be a threat until the main force arrives, and if the galaxy is   
prepared for them then the Yuuzhan Vong jihad can be defeated   
before it even takes root."  
  
"Yes, you are correct." Thrawn nodded and Vergere sensed   
his agreement, if little else. The Chiss Admiral was amazingly   
strong-minded. Influencing his thoughts would be like trying to   
uproot a tree with bare hands.  
  
"The ship must die." Vergere said. "Best case scenario,   
Sang Anor dies with it."  
  
"Is he really that dangerous?" Thrawn raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I spent my last five years with the Vong under his personal   
charge, Admiral." Vergere shivered. "I couldn't sense him in the   
Force, but I know him. Yes, he is very dangerous, even   
without a worldship and weapons. You wont be fighting just   
Yuuzhan Vong when you go after him. He's based himself in this   
Warlord's territory, that can only mean he has control of this 'Coerl'   
person. That means he controls the man's fleet as well, and he   
wont hesitate to use machines indirectly."  
  
Thrawn nodded. "I wish you could have brought me some   
of their artwork instead of simply describing it too me. I could   
learn much about them if I could see their art firsthand."  
  
"If you want to study their art then just look at the two   
Vong corpses you have. They consider what they do to their own   
bodies artistic. They are a race that sees destruction and pain as a   
form of art and they are very refined in their practice. Study that."   
Vergere shrugged. "Anyway, I've told you all I can about what to   
expect in fighting them. I'm sorry I couldn't find out more, but I   
can't begin to understand their science and Sang Anor was careful   
to keep the actual shaping and building process from me. I'm sure   
he has a few weapons even I have never heard of too. He loves his   
secrets."  
  
"I see," Thrawn nodded, "at least you have given me an   
idea as to what these Yuuzhan Vong can do, and how they will do   
it. Tracking the worldship down or drawing it out is my problem.   
You and your companion are free to go. You will be taken to the   
surface and your freighter allowed to leave in peace."  
  
"Thank you." Thrawn turned to open the door. "Admiral,"   
Vergere stopped him, she had to at least try this, "when you attack   
the Vong on Sevac III there is something you should know: there is   
a native race there, the Nesz, who are being hunted and enslaved   
by the Yuuzhan Vong. They are innocent, and have shown great   
bravery in helping me gather information about their conquerors. I   
want you to do your best to spare them."  
  
  
Thrawn's face hardened. "That will be impossible, as you   
already know. By your own testimony we can never be certain of   
destroying all the Yuuzhan Vong works if even a single living   
thing survives our assault."  
  
"The Nesz are innocent. They didn't ask for any of this."  
  
"Regrettable, but the they are only a few hundred primitives   
still unaltered and the Yuuzhan Vong threaten the entire galaxy.   
There is no comparison." The coldly glowing eyes held no   
compromise. "I thank you for your warning, but your wish to spare   
your allies is out of the question."  
  
Vergere's shoulders slumped. Her eyes closed for a   
moment, but when she opened them again her gaze met the   
Admiral's without flinching. "Tell me Thrawn, why do you do   
this?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Why do you serve the Emperor? You seem to be an   
honorable man, your subordinates respect you. You inspire   
genuine loyalty in your men. Not the hallmark of Imperial   
commanders, yet you occupy one of the highest positions in the   
Empire's military."  
  
"The Emperor will bring peace and order to the entire   
galaxy." Thrawn crossed his arms. "While you see him as evil, I   
perceive the greater good in what he has built."  
  
"Order," Vergere nodded her head, "I thought that would be   
it."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Thrawn was clearly   
becoming annoyed with this conversation, he had important things   
to see to, not least of all the damage done to his flagship.  
  
"How Palpatine got to you." The Jedi explained. "What he   
promised you. Order and control. Unity. It's your drug, Thrawn,   
and the Emperor is a master of finding a person's weaknesses and   
using them to his own advantage. To some he promised power.   
Others he offered revenge. It all ends the same way, though: you   
sell your soul for empty promises."  
  
"What do you know of me?" Thrawn took an involuntary   
step toward Vergere, his cool facade had cracked slightly and a   
look of pure fury flashed across his face. "How dare you judge me   
and what I work toward? I have seen the chaos that rages among   
these stars, the endless, pointless wars? The Emperor is a   
necessary evil, Jedi, in the end there will be peace."  
  
"The Empire corrupts, Thrawn. Palpatine is a Sith Lord,   
corruption has ever been their way and there has never been one   
who embodies the ways of the Sith as completely as the Emperor.   
How do you think he got where he is? He ate into the heart of the   
Old Republic and rotted it from within. I have never encountered   
him, no, but I feel him, like a blight in the Force poisoning   
everyone and everything he touches. Your Emperor is nothing but   
a glorified parasite, an exalted cancer."  
  
  
"You call him a necessary evil, you think you are using him   
to accomplish your goals. The name of your fleet says it all,   
Unity." She smiled bitterly. "The starlanes to hell are navigated   
by good intentions. I don't care how clever you are, the Emperor   
can see right through you. Literally. You bring order to the worlds   
of the Unknown Regions, but you take away their freedom. You're   
telling yourself things will get better over time. The oppression   
will ease and eventually disappear once things settle down, once   
the Rebellion is crushed and the warlords are defeated." She held   
up her hand as Thrawn started to speak.  
  
"No, Admiral, I'm not reading your mind. You may not   
believe it but your aren't the only one who can see what's obvious,   
and I'm telling you now that things will never get better. The   
corruption will only get worse and more tyrannical. More and   
more atrocities will be committed in the name of this nebulous   
'greater good' that is always just out of reach, that will always   
require just one more life destroyed, one more planet laid to waste,   
one more freedom crushed."  
  
"The Empire was built by a Sith." She continued. "It was   
born in the mind of a Sith, and everything the Sith have ever   
touched brought nothing but pain and fear and hate because the   
Sith serve the dark side. They draw their power from it and all   
those emotions are what the dark side feeds on! Do you   
understand? The stronger the dark side becomes, the stronger   
they become, and that's all the Emperor has ever really cared   
about!"  
  
Verger sighed. "Why is it you think Palpatine has always   
favored humans? It's not because of any prejudice on his part, or   
even because humans are the most numerous and widespread race   
in the galaxy. It's because he knows how humans think more   
intimately than he could know the thought-patterns of any other   
race, which makes them all the easier for him to corrupt. Why do   
you think he accepted you? Because you're sufficiently humanlike   
for him to understand and so to corrupt. He has been manipulating   
you from the first moment you met, and you never even realized   
it."  
  
For a long moment the Grand Admiral said not a word. His   
face was inscrutable, his eyes and mind gave away nothing. Then:  
  
"Another shuttle has been prepared for you. You will be   
taken to your ship. As I promised, you will have safe passage out   
of this system. I trust we will not meet again. I have problems   
enough to deal with." With that, he turned on his heel and strode   
out the door.  
  
*************************************  
The shuttle trip to the planet was quiet, but with a tension   
that Vergere could feel like a thousand wires stretched taunt   
throughout the Force around her. Oin sat beside her, looking out   
the window but seeing nothing. He had not spoken a word since   
his encounter with Nom Anor.  
  
Finally, hesitantly, the Jedi touched his shoulder. He   
neither flinched away nor lashed out at her, but simply turned his   
head toward her. Vergere couldn't meet those terrible eyes. His   
despair washed over her, threatening to drown her. The same   
despair she herself had felt when she sense the Jedi dying.  
  
"Oin," she said slowly, "I am so sorry-"  
  
"We have to go back." He spoke as the ship set down. His   
voice was dry and firm.  
  
"Back where?" Vergere asked, not understanding.  
  
"To my homeworld." He touched his chest where the   
bandolier had lain. "To save my people."  



	7. Default Chapter Title

Epilogue  
  
"It was all the Jedi's doing." The warrior spat his rage on   
the coral floor of the worldship. "Things would have gone   
perfectly if not for her interference."  
  
"But things did not go perfectly, did they?" Sang Anor said   
coldly. He stared over the kneeling warrior's head, deep in   
thought. "And that is the reality we must deal with." The Jedi had   
been here, in this system, in the very palm of his hand, and had   
gotten away. The Executor stroked the sinuous body of the   
amphistaff that lay across his shoulders and coiled around his arm,   
his claws brushing its scales oh so gently.  
  
"Yes," Prefect Ke'Nass said, a smirk in his tone, "where do   
we go from here, Executor?"  
  
"You have told me everything?" The warrior nodded.   
"Then go to the priests for your Cleansing." The warrior was up   
and out the door of the yammosk's chamber in two bounds, afraid   
the massive coordinator would pick him up and crush him before   
he was Cleansed.  
  
The Imperial shuttle had been detected by the yammosk as   
soon as it had entered the system, by means of the sensory buoys   
that it was mentally linked to placed throughout the system, it was   
still a mystery how the Jedi had managed to get in and out undetected.  
  
The occupants had been taken to the Long Reach of   
Death. The senior warrior had been put in an ooglith cloaker to   
keep him from tainting the worldship and brought to the   
yammosk's chamber to give his report. Nom Anor had been taken   
to the priests immediately to begin his Cleansing after being in   
such close contact with the machines. Sang Anor would speak to   
his son privately later.  
  
"Well," the Prefect said with relish, "look at what your   
great plans have come to. The Empire is alerted to our presence,   
the Jedi moves around our seed world freely, tainting what she   
will, and native race, supposedly cowed and enslaved, is giving her   
every assist."  
  
  
"Use your mind instead of your mouth, Ke'Nass," Sang   
Anor snapped, "I had analyzed the situation as soon as the report   
was complete. And conceived our course of action. As for your   
concern for our seed world's security: I quite agree that things have   
been far too lax for too long with our slaves there. Which is why I   
am assigning you to rectify the problem."  
  
"What?" The Prefect's eyebrows rose.  
  
"I am relieving you of your duties and placing you in   
command of the seed world. I am assuming direct command of   
the worldship and taking it out of this system. I will be leaving a   
strong force of warriors with you. I trust that the native population   
will be enslaved or dead by the time I return."  
  
"This is insane! I-"  
  
"You have your orders, Prefect!" Sang Anor roared,   
overwhelming all objection. In response, the wrinkled mass of the   
yammosk writhed atop its pedestal overhead.  
  
Ke'Nass stiffened and gave a ridged bow. "Yes, Master."   
He ground out.  
  
"Good. This task will be well within your abilities while I   
begin work to salvage the situation."  
  
"Really, Executor?" Ke'Nass snarled. "Tell me, what will   
you do? What can you do?"  
  
Sang Anor turned away, threw back his head and laughed   
gently, and he curled his fingers around the amphistaff, just behind   
the serpent's head, spun back around and lashed at Ke'Nass. The   
Prefect didn't have time to think or react as the tail of the staff   
wrapped itself around his neck. At a squeeze of Sang Anor's   
fingers the serpent turned rock-hard and he pushed the other Vong   
down to the floor with it. The Prefect clutched at the serpent's   
body that held him down like a bar of durasteel, the razor-sharp   
edges were pressed against Ke'Nass' neck. With a flick of his   
wrist Sang Anor could decapitate him.  
  
  
"What will I do?" Sang Anor laughed, and there was   
nothing gentle in it. "I will tell you. I will kill, Prefect. I will kill   
until the worlds of the Unknown Regions are piled with dead. I   
will kill until the exalted Unity Fleet are just metal coffins drifting   
in space. They say the Emperor and his tame Jedi Darth Vader can   
sense life events. Fine. I will draw a curtain of death across the   
Unknown Regions so that they will feel nothing but the terror of   
the slain when they turn their eyes this way." His voice had   
become low and cold as he spoke, and even Ke'Nass flinched at   
the unholy light in Sang Anor's eyes.  
  
"I will kill until the gods themselves weep and cry stop."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
